You once told me about irregular orbits, and how all time is really distance from each
other: How many light years we have aged since we last met!
Every time I cross the Mississippi river a clasp of wheat grows in my heart; at last
there will be no more famine.
They came from families that had grown too familiar with forgetting; fortunately,
their love was so strong, they could nearly act as weak as they felt.
Updating the Rolodex
Who wrote their names in your books? Who knows when each leaf will fall? Who
counts each drop of rain? Who knows where the bees have gone?
Codes of Conduction
Conductors clothed in cobwebs banned smiling on the trains because it was an
unwanted intrusion on the gloom of the passengers on their ways to work.
Ori Fienberg’s short prose and poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in venues such as Always Crashing, Diagram, Essay Daily, Mid-American Review, Subtropics, and Yes Poetry. A graduate of the Nonfiction Writing Program at the University of Iowa, Ori work to promote academic integrity for the College of Professional Studies at Northeastern University in Boston, and lives in Evanston, IL. More writing can be found at orifienberg.com.