Zipcar in Heaven

I met Elijah the Prophet on the commuter train. His eyes were deep and wise and his suit was frayed, and burnt looking around the edges. 

I said "I know this game. This is the game where you go out among the common people and do miracles, like a king in a storybook, dressing like a commoner, and when someone recognizes you, you disappear in a puff of smoke, leaving the whole village mystified, and the poor man's house full of food." 

Elijah turned to me and a smile crinkled up his face. "No," he said, "Solomon borrowed my ride to impress the Queen of Sheba. It's their anniversary." 

And he stood in line for his ticket like the rest of us.

Source:

Merav Hoffman 

Rasta Mantra

For B & M Cosmetics II and Salon 

Oi, Rastafarian Samson! What is the source of your Black Power? What is the source of your Supermang Strength? What is the source of your Magnetoism? Afros, Dreadlocks, and Cornrows. That Lila may shave off hiss royal manhood, while herr heels choke EU ~ back into my wounds.

Cigarra Chinita

"All EEUUr trees and all the fruit of EUr soil the cicada will make destitute." ~ Devarim 28:42

The aroma of cigars is the Tsong of the Cicada, penetrating hearths of stone upon an alter of Stranger Firestarter, whose smoke rings dissolve into an exquisite spiral sequence.

Rosh Hashanah 5772 Poem: East of Aden

In my extended family, we Я Sh~va Royalty, Aztlán Gurus, Galleon Seamen, Pashtun Freedom Fighters, Boxer Ninjazz, Eskrimador Headhunters, Babaylan Priests, Prince(ss) of Egypt and Persia, some how. Our skin is the collar of anger and rawr. We carry the f@g on our shoulders. That’s how islands are Made in Aden.

Intuit

Rumours of worse case scenarios swirl. The Real World freezes over. I am the only resident of Alaska, Russia formerly known as, that I know of. My shack was reconstructed with icy spikes, the facade of a minaret roof, inverted. Broken Heineken are embedded into igloo mortar. Sepia Stars, sigh. Less melodrama, nowadays. I have finally merited a fur burqa to show off, in kaleidoscope. Mirror-Mirror on the Firewalls: Charlie is a tacky chimney. On Demand and fugly. This summer of a thousand tundras, I was visited by Lightning Terriers in our bed of affliction, and came: Pre-ejacutalory ruins.