by Jonathan Greenhause | Aug 11, 2017
Like a violin wishing it were a piano. Like a cirrus cloud afraid of heights. Like a Nobel scientist unsure of the science. Like a barn with hay-fever. Like a lake afraid of being too...
by Jonathan Greenhause | Sep 30, 2013
He was cannonballed out of oblivion six weeks early, slick and bloody, head ripe as a cherry, neck raw where his life cord had nearly choked him in the womb. His mother said he had “ancient eyes” and named him after a great-uncle who’d been gassed in Auschwitz....
