Poetry
Black and Gold
(Deborah means ‘bee’ in Hebrew.) From spring 2007: My heart is a bee. Cantankerous, it stings at random. But it dies each time it causes pain— while those attacked recover. Alight with flight, industrious and wild, it hovers over beauty. It yields gifts of honey from those it loves- -and seeks to woo. It is subservient. Yet majestic. Perhaps Queenly. Photo by Deborah Stokol. Bat-Mitzvah invitation encased in a... »
The Ocean at Night
From August 2007: There’s nothing like the ocean at night, It’s obsidian that returns to its molten state while retaining its color, and, of course, its sheen. It rolls in its own wealth like a dragon in his den. It lavishes the lengthy folds of crystal onto its many facets. I wish I could hold it in my hand (feel... »
The Sea and the Warrior
From Fall 2006: The Sea’s gleaming water nursed the aches of a wounded sun. It laid gentle fingers, jellied and blue, on the dying day dreams of one gold warrior whose armor lay hidden as he healed for the night. He fancied those whose bodies were neither here nor there. Who were neither fish nor fair. He winked at them, those ladies with amber eyes and amber hair. Whose fins shone nearly as brightly as their eyes... »
The Sea
From August 2006 Also appears in 2007’s ‘The Berkeley Poetry Review” And the sea. Which goes, and flows, by delicate means, of ropes and pulleys made of turquoise and pearl. Who hosts armies of starfish and coral cavalcades Peopled by folk of blues and greens whose whims know no boundaries and gifts know no end. Whose very skin—glistens with diamonds and memory. A lass with pipes that sound with... »