The Wondering Workshop

Israeli authors and poets creating in English

Author Archive

cutting out traumatic memories

i sit in a chair in front of the mirror as i’m shorn of the last strands grown out of my mind signifiers of words tumbling down to the floor: uniform, mess hall, discipline, obedience, responsibility, ambassador, pride, power, authority, hierarchy, bureaucracy, weapons, ballistics, strategy, efficiency, the contradiction of the value of life, allies, enemies, […]

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sex education as done by the wondering workshop

everything begins, and ends, with an orgy. everything is better with lesbians. the funny thing about birds and trees is that if the birds aren’t getting it on then the trees don’t get to reproduce. even piloting a giant disguised in fur through virtual bowels is not enough to dampen sexual urges. when an author […]

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a world without flowers

the sun shines brightly cutting through the haze into tight corners of the post-atomic daze the concrete alley floor, with its broken flower pot is dead and cracked and quiet, and it’s steaming, baking hot the dark red flower pot lies empty and unused the seeds that used to lie in it were x-rayed ’til […]

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downstairs, in the back

the four grim men in dark suits and ties step smartly into the tiny back room, sliding into place around the green felt table with a deck of cards in its center, circled by the light of the lamp hanging low above it. a petit, dark haired lady gracefully walks in after them carrying a […]

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the 35th meeting

i haven’t been here that long, but long enough to call it tradition. or habitual. it’s like a carton of cigarettes, by the time you’ve gotten into it enough to be addicted it’s too late to realize that you don’t earn enough to pay for it and food. so they finally get to me, after […]

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metal mouth

my dentist demands complete submission, leaving winter in my face [See me reading this live]

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signs in the dead of night

the sign at the coffee counter at the gas station says 25 hours, and i guess that’s right because that’s what they’re really selling. we’ll be in big trouble the day they stop providing us with such good service. the dark, smooth highways in the early hours, with their visible gusts of dust and […]

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i don’t know what privation is or is not any more than i know the squiggles and teeth of the horse, whose head lies between crocodile’s teeth i know what i know is what behandlung von haarausfall in einem frühen stadium i don’t know is pre-oedipal pre-conscious pre-lacking and its sublime sublimation sees me chewing […]

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this is no time for an orgy

it really isn’t. there’s a man in a suit and tie at the door, the pizza box reflected in dark glasses that seem a natural part of him even at this ungodly hour. i feel like my eyeball’s filling the peephole, as i roll it around to look him up and down. i don’t see […]

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