Our Rise

for Countless Millennia

 we Chewed our way

through the day


hundreds of thousands of years

we lived a life


on masticating, sleeping

and mating


our Formidable

remaining jaws

show Powerful Teeth

designed to break down

bark, tubers and grasses

for Hours


our skulls


suggest an undersized brain

too busy Chewing


A Shift Occurred


that Formidable jaw


resembling what we have now


our skull’s cavity


allowing our brains

to increase threefold


 by the size of our diminished jaw

and larger crown

it Appears

we have discovered


and the application of Fire


in Cooked Fare



half digested food

and spending less of our day Chewing


gaining many more calories for time spent eating


Gives Us So Much More

Bang for our Buck



Our Brains,

Such Hungry Organs,

Evolve Voraciously


we begin Envisioning

a future, a past,

even the Sacred


That Moment

when the Lion

became an Image

of Power and Dignity

the Sky

a benevolent Father

the Earth

a Mother

whose Law must be heeded

lest we suffer

her Retribution


That Moment

was the Hour

of Our Becoming


unlike any other living being

we began Speaking

a language of Symbols

depicting the Imaginary

the Allegorical

and the Metaphysical


Humans and Nature


self reflective

we Became what we Are


the Symbolic Species


Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

My Other Mother

To Sima Mizrachi

Dark Woman with Dark eyes

you reached out to me

took me as your own

Those Arms

such weathered olive branches

held me

your Boundless Humor

shook me

 Solid you Stand

Wise with Fruit

Gift of your Heart’s Intelligence


I miss you my dark mother

 Warmth of Countless

Years of Gathered Sunshine


once the center of your tribe

You are its very Essence





Beyond The Call Of Duty

Pour Papa


Dad's funeral Beyond the call of duty

Photograph by Yaron Rosner


what were you thinking

as you repeatedly crawled

into Gunfire?

reaching for your Fallen


heaving them onto stretchers

all the while hugging

the Earth

Oblivious to explosions

impervious to Bullet Rain


was it youthful conviction

in immortality

or teeth gritting defiance

of Death?


Your gathered Freedom Fighters

pushed onwards

heartened by an enemy


seeing a glow

in what appeared

At Last

the Darkest Tunnel’s End


cleaning and dressing wounds

relieving Pain

where you could

carrying Them


close to your heart

as they took a last Breath

holding their hands

an Angel to the fevered


So many Fell

you survived

a Keeper of the Story


Those were Thunderous Times


to the small things

of ordinary life

awoke Torment

subdued by action

pursued you into the Everyday


refusing to buckle

you Succumbed


the voices, so many

so vociferous,

so demanding

you became Two

like Wolves

they fought for your heart

in the end

only the one you fed

could win



The Beautiful Minds


Painting By Felix Vallotton

Painting By Felix Vallotton


 the Minds

That Compel Us

To Lift Our Heads


 sweep Dust

from darkened corridors

convey  Light

turn Alleyways

into 4 lane Boulevards

tributary streams

into powerful Rivers


Minds that

with a Gleam

and a Nod

open Doors

 Create Vistas

Broad and Beautiful


leave us convinced

Of A Journey


a taste of Opportunity

lying in Wait


 should we choose


those People

of those Minds

teach us

For A Moment


to Give

a little further

Fear a little less

stretch a fraction harder

love ourselves


that bit more



On This Day


On this Day

I write for You


On this Day

Our Memories Collide

Merge and Coalesce

make us that Single

Person with so many Others

where, with amalgamated

memories potentiating

each other

we become a part

of something so much Bigger


our personal wills ineffective

we can only feel

and re-feel


a Spiral of ever increasing

and decreasing



On this Day

you and I

are One

Encompassing a Body

of Millions


whether of The Murdered

 The Survivors

or The Saved

we are them

and each other

For a Day


On this Day

I write for Us


Small Things


the Essential Value

Born from

 the little movements of life,

 small repeated gestures

that Nurture a child into Form


the Radiance of a Glance

maintaining the food link

to the Soul


or its deprivation

and subsequent Hunger


It’s in the Repeated

acts of kindness

a being Blossoms

in Reverence

to the god of Small Things

we understand our own Importance

as Care Givers

not in the god of large things,

the foolish red herrings

lead us Astray

from the real necessity

of being Here Now


It’s for those Small

Things in small

moments, I love you,

the rest

I ‘ve allowed myself

 to leave behind

in peace


Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Stealing Fire

by expanding


we See more



the weft and warp

behind the weave


behind Actions


by seeing more

we Imagine more

Symbolic Beings That We Are

understand the Value

of our choices

rather than feeling subjected

to the decisions

of others


By Expanding Our Horizons

we inevitably test our Faith


a multiplication of options

was it right? was it not?


makes some of us Cower

others Soar


The Price of Stealing Fire


Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

To My Beloved

To My Beloved

and the choice I make in you

for the sake of giving

you something

of the written me

not to let another year

go by without a word,

or many words

(whatever it takes)

tell you what you

already know

Something other than

the three words I do

intermittently utter

rather, something of the Substance

such the marrow

of a bone, its Wealth

of nutrients

fear of not expressing

the depth I feel

makes me stumble

as it is in good faith

I bring you this Me of mine

choose you every morning

as my traveling partner

in and out of fog

and broad daylight

through the thin Stench

of my mind’s gaseous compost

and the thick Scent of my heart’s

lemon blossoms, such a veil

enveloping us as the heat

of day does break by water

clapping at our presence

Through the torture and rewards

of my Spirit’s Wanderings

a lost ghost,

at best a heartfelt warrior

For this and all

that is more

I hold your hand

move forward

through the wake and sleep

of our  journey together.


25 years

Yaron Rosner

Yaron Rosner


The World Without You

You Say

you don’t belong

here anymore


weary of a world

changing so fast

your Spirit


in the loneliness

of your words


I pause


the Origin of my life,

I  never imagined

you Elsewhere

than part of it



and inevitable

the notion of your absence

prods me


I see

a Dimming


for the planet

but Permanent in

my chambers,

the ones built

with Your Blood


golden Mayo cropped

  My mother, Marilyn Cashman Nahas is 83

Very lucky to still have her in my life.