The Good Words Don't Burn

By Avigayil Finkelstein July 2026 Inspired by William Blakes “The Tyger.”   Human, Human, weak and pale Sinews slight and muscles frail Flesh unarmored, soft and slim Tripping on bipedal limbs   On those spindly legs, upright Stalking like a prince of night Curling every blunt-edged finger As if taloned paws did linger   Human, Human strange delight Bright like comets in the night Brief his tenure on this earth Outsized sorrow—outsized mirth

By Avigayil Finkelstein July 2026 Inspired by Nakahara in Sagami Province , from the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji by Katsushika Hokusai [1] At rosy dawn And dusky eve Mt. Fuji kisses the thin band of the horizon.   [2] A basket balanced on my hand One hand to stabilize Mt. Fuji rests on the horizon.   [3] Minnows swim across my ankles Water laps at my calves Cool as the snow that sits on Mt. Fuji.   [4] The silt-speckled shore Is soft beneath my toes I rest in the shade of Mt. Fuji.   [5] A fan of green leaves A spray of yellow sand The sharp indigo wedge of Mt. Fuji.   [6] The top of a man’s head A square slice of panorama The snow-capped peak of Mt. Fuji.   [7] Sandaled feet cross wooden boards Backs turned from the sun Chins thrust forward to face Mt. Fuji.   [8] A mustache droops across his face A yoke curves across his shoulders The plains are flat at the foot...

By Avigayil Finkelstein July 2026   The plastic grass rustled in the field And the sky bled oral through the chain link fence Then watermelon pink, then midnight blue And in that streetlight haze The unfriendly whisperings of the evergreens All said that this was not the sun-soaked park Where bluebirds sang from a bright blue sky And wildflowers twined the pebble-dashed water fountain Here, every cornmaze twist and turn Of that tried and true bike path Led closer to the minotaur’s den

By Avigayil Finkelstein July 2026   It began with the breaking of chains. Was the sound of the falling shackles not The sweetest song of liberty? Best look away from the things on the pikes. Of brotherhood I sing, and the baying of crowds. Times are a-changing, and It is better to join the mob than meet its justice. Was this not what we always wanted? The liberty tree, its branches weighted with our foes: Worst of humanity, or at least, some Of them were. Best change with the Times or the times will change you.