The American Poetry Review, November 1st, 1996
1. I'm a man who murdered love simply with his own two hands took and snapped its neck like a lamb and then, with his fee, his slaughterer's fee, promptly turned into a groisser hocham - a wise ass - wise at night and wise on his ass - and so there's Cain and there's Abel and Joseph and Deborah and Hamor the Shechemite and finally a kind of Aharon Eichmann wandering around with - stuck in his back pocket - all five scrolls Lamentations and Ruth The Song of Songs and so on but waiting for the firing squad it's sublime my eyes blinded by tears to take the ringing bullets like ...
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