GAS Featured Poet: Wayne F. Burke, presented by Belinda Subraman

Wayne F. Burke’s most recent book is Black Summer:  New and Selected Poems .  "Black Summer is more than a book of poetry. It is an experience to be lived and relived. Burke taps into our most shared experiences of humanity. His conversational verse entices the reader to continue following the exploits of this wandering everyman who searches, yearns for definition, only to find definitions lacking. But the road is all-encompassing. This book is for lovers of a good story, a good life, and is a roadmap for all of us who often find ourselves on the shoulder of life's highway."  Wayne's poetry has appeared in a wide variety of publications online and in print. He is author of seven published full-length poetry collections. The most recent book before Black Summer, Escape From Planet Crouton published by Luchador Press, 2019. His poem “Prepositioned” was nominated for “Best of the Net.” His poem “Max” won Poem of the Year Honorable Mention from The Song Is magazine. A collection of his short stories, titled TURMOIL & Other Stories, was published by Adelaide Press, NY, 2020. He is currently at work on a hybrid of memoir/novel. He has lived for the past thirty-five years in the central Vermont region, USA. 

From Black Summer:

Famous

for M.R.

I asked the famous poet to read

my poems

and he did

and then

arranged to meet me

in the cafeteria

where we sat in a booth

across from one another

and he looked down at my manuscript as

he spoke, his black bangs

over-hanging his face, and

never looking up, not

once, until the

end and

then

I wished he would have looked back down

again

because

something in his eyes,

anguish of some kind

I could not bear to look at--

he was known as the Poet of Loneliness and

was married to the Poetess of Bereavement.

Before leaving, I asked what he really thought of

my things, and

he said,

well

they are all on the surface

no depth to them

read other things beside literature, he suggested

like "Kramer's book on aesthetics."

I thanked him and he left.

I was the Poet of Surfaceness.

Wayne F. Burke

Interview

Be: These poems are clever illuminations in common language about un-glorified everyday life. The listening brain takes note and smiles but you didn’t see it coming among the punks, herpes and smashed flies. Has your writing style developed over time or have you always been honest, clever and humorous?

MB: My writing "style," has been developing since I was nineteen (I am now 66) and began practicing the art, and craft, of writing poetry.

I dislike, distrust, cleverness in writing. Dislike cuteness as well.

Ditto sentimentality. These things are the enemies of good writing.

I try and keep a sense of humor about things: I am serious about my

writing, but try not to take myself seriously. I think there is room

in poetry for jokiness, so why not joke around a little? Seriousness

and meaningfulness in writing, are good, I think; but also can, I

think, be limiting (as can "truthfulness"). There is no limit to usage

of the form--limits are placed only by oneself. The poem is without

boundaries (beside page size and language usage), so why not exploit

the freedom the form allows us as writer's of "free verse"? Why not

use such non-poetic forms as bulletins, menus, recipes, etc.? Joke it

up a little, fantasize; the form promotes creativity, so, be creative

with it!

Be: Do you feel you get more appreciation for your poetry than the other types of writing you’ve done and is that what spurs you on?  Is this the perfect medium for you?

MB: Appreciation of my poetry has been extended to me regularly: I have been widely published online and in print (plus ten published poetry collections). This appreciation has not been extended to my prose (I have published one short story collection). If the prose I wrote, and continue to write, received the same appreciation--meaning, to me,

publication--as my poetry, I suppose that prose-writing, instead of

poetry, would be my main focus.

Be: I find it interesting you became an LPN.  How long have you worked as nurse?  How much does working with patients influence your writing?

MB: I began working as an LPN at age 56 after having worked many

entry-level jobs--so-called "shit-jobs"--available to someone, like

myself, holding a BA Degree in Liberal Arts (Goddard College) but no

professional certificate. Working ten years as LPN enabled me to save

enough money to make possible retirement without undo anxiety as to

how or even if I could survive on Social Security.

     When one of my shifts in the nursing home, where I spent my

"career," ended, so did my association, for that day, with the medical

field. I did not, have not, written anything about being a nurse, and,

presently, have no ambition or inclination to revisit, imaginatively,

that particular scene.

Be: Your poetry is new to me (as I am probably new to you) but I’m glad to find it.  Is there any topic you won’t write about?  Why or why not?

MB: I can not think of any subject, which has to do with the human

condition, as being off-limits to me as a writer.

Be: Who are some of the poets you admire who may have influenced your style, at least subconsciously?

MB: Reading Bukowski gave me the idea that my life, though not

particularly exciting or even interesting, to me, could be used as

subject. The writing about a life, no matter the circumstances of the

life, could be, via the writing, interesting and exciting. Bukowski

infused the quotidian with drama, and hence, excitement. Through the

magic of his language he made the ordinary seem something

special...What I had to work with, I realized, was the life I was born

into. Being  a "somebody" or having extravagant experiences was

incidental to the writing. The writing gives value to the life, rather

than vice-versa.

     Fascinating, to me, is the cryptic weirdness of Frank Sanford's

work; I am an admirer of the late great Alan Dugan who could consider complex, even abstruse, ideas or theories, and make them communicable through a poetry of plain stark language. Poets currently writing, whom I find interesting, include Mather Schneider, James Benger, Amirah Al Wassif, Carl Kaucher, John Patrick Robinson, among others.

Be:  Any advice to writers?

MB:  Advice? I quote you my poem, "Advice."

burn all bridges

as soon as you cross

them

because you are going to

want to

go back, and

if the bridge

is still intact, you

will.

Believe me, you

will.

Wayne F. Burke

GAS Featured Artist: Ho Baron, by Sylvia Van Nooten

Ho Baron’s work and life are a testimony to the importance of travelling, both in the mental and physical sense.  His adventures and explorations--pushing him far from the boundaries of other’s expectations-- are reflected in his art.  The sculptures featured in this written interview are marvelous ventures into an unknown future.  Will we need new religions and new gods?  I suspect that yes, we will and Baron’s work shows us one vision of how this might look. (If you want to explore further but can’t visit his sculpture garden, I suggest buying his book, Gods for Future Religions.)

~Sylvia Van Nooten 

Ho in his own words:

I was born in Chicago, El Paso bred, and was raised in the desert on the Mexican border. After studying English in graduate school in Tucson, I taught in the Peace Corps in Nigeria and Ethiopia. It followed years of moving around. From Africa, I lived in New York, Philadelphia, Austin, the Virgin Islands, Belgium and elsewhere, then I returned to El Paso in 1980 to work for ten years in the family pawn shop. I earned a second master's degree in library science along the way, and after a stint in retail, I worked part time several years as an El Paso’s community college librarian.

 I traveled most continents, taught, did public relations, social work, construction, restaurants and labor. I grew in my personal expression from writing into the visual arts including photography, pen and ink drawing, painting to eventually create about 200 narrative bronze and cast stone figures. In addition, I published a satirical newspaper, "The El Paso Lampoon," had photo exhibits, and I produced a weekly "new music" radio program on the local NPR station.

My life-long art endeavors mostly fall in five areas: writings, the drawings, photography, the years of modeling and casting sculptures, then in creating doll assemblages in my ‘old years.’ Interestingly, the message in my artistic imagery translated similarly in my works and style, from my drawings to my super imposed photography, the sculpture and the assemblages.

I found fulfillment in the visual arts, and sculpture was particularly gratifying. I took a few art courses, but I’m self-taught, my expression is primarily intuitive and my modeling technique is rough. Sculpture has been my greatest passion, abstracting the human form with my motifs of surreal imagery and faces within faces.

With little formal training in the visual arts, my expression is free from rules and expectations. I label my imagery as surreal, because my figures are unreal and fantasy like. Maybe influenced by my travels, some say they are Asian in appearance, some say perhaps Mayan. My sculptures are water-like creatures, perhaps deities of an ancient culture pulled from a remote lagoon. Perhaps they’re ‘gods for future religions.’

My unrefined modeling style might pair me with outsider or folk artists. Casting in bronze, however, is not an outsider’s medium. ‘Original’ might be a better label, but that’s not academic sounding. Call me ‘visionary.’ The American Visionary Art Museum, where I have two works, makes a distinction between folk and visionary art. Visionary art, the museum wrote, is created by self-taught artists whose work is personal rather than folk art, which is developed from an existing cultural tradition.

As for art as a communication tool, different medium relates to different people differently or maybe not at all … lots of variables. I’ve made art mostly for myself, art for art’s sake, so my audience must inevitably be select, mostly other artists, a few fans and tourists looking for entertainment in El Paso. I’ve always known my unusual works would draw a limited audience.

It’s tough reaching an audience as an artist. My creative writings died in my files although I’ve found the visual arts easier to show. I’m old with massive work I’ve created. The future of my work is uncertain but so is the future with all. 

In terms of the artist community, many artists by their very nature are kindred spirits. Even though they can be critical of each other, we share a similar passion. I’ve met hundreds of other artists in weekend art fairs and at gallery openings and of course FB has assisted in drawing together those with similar interests. 

My gallery in my basement is closed, the Covid, but I welcome people to my garden. When asked why I make art, I say it’s my motto: “Make art.” Making art is fun, always gratifying and it’s my religion. Making a living in art is tough, however, but it’s worth pursuing a lifetime, I say to visitors. Art can be in many forms: the visual arts, the performing, graphic, decorative, cooking, gardening and so on. 

“First Person” 1980 is on the book cover of my “Gods for Future Religions.” This was my first sculpture modeled for a night course at the Philadelphia College of Art, my only work modeled from a drawing of mine. All following modeled works were improvised.

Surreal Sculpture Garden is my ‘open to the public’ garden behind my home. Read some commentary from visitors. 

 “Dysfunctional Family Tree” 2012 is a giant assemblage completed after the book was published. Visible as in the sculpture garden image, the tree was a beloved, a live nonbearing mulberry tree, wherein I added features when it died. The hands are plaster, the faces cast stone while the legs are actual mannequin legs.

 “The Water God” The date made was not documented, and the vines and decoration on the work is ever changing. There’s a video on it on You Tube and a further explanation of the work in my “Gods…,” monograph pp. 4-5.

“A Novel Romance” 2005 pp 38-41 Notes are on pp.40-41 and a photo on back cover. The sculpture is installed in public in front of the El Paso Public Library.

“One” 1994 Female on one side and male on the reverse side. On is p.12 there is related commentary. on the page.

“Horses and Riders” 1994 is on p. 29, probably the most outrageous depiction of the subject anywhere, both image and explanation.

“Post Nuclear Dog” 2007 pp. 50-51. The work is among my most popular and a copy is in the American Visionary Art Museum collection.  

http://www.hobaron.com/

https://www.facebook.com/HoBaronSculpture/
https://www.instagram.com/hobarone/ 

George Saunders' LINCOLN IN THE BARDO, reviewed by Henry Stanton

There are many ugly and beautiful things in Lincoln In the Bardo.  The beauty is unequivocally breathtaking.  The following clip sings (as do many segments) and is more poetry than prose (come to think of it, what IS the difference):

"Though the things of the world were strong with me still. Such as, for example: a gaggle of children trudging through a side-blown December flurry; a friendly match-share beneath some collision-tilted streetlight; a frozen clock, bird-visited within its high tower; cold water from a tin jug; toweling off one’s clinging shirt post–June rain. Pearls, rags, buttons, rug-tuft, beer-froth. Someone’s kind wishes for you; someone remembering to write; someone noticing that you are not at all at ease.”

The structure of the book, short bursts of captivating prose, though not an original form, is artfully contrived.  Characterization is complex and curious and revelatory.  The book is absurd and hysterically funny.  George Saunders is a virtuoso writer.  I love his work.

But the ugly in the book is difficult to consume, is intentionally perverse of course, but is as tough to sustain in review as a Bosch painting.  After a while, it’s just too gross to look through.  (Though maybe I am deceiving myself – I read through the book in one glorious rush).  Perhaps, it’s just too gross to consider the detail in retrospect.  Such revulsion must be typical of confronting hell, and I guess also of The Bardo, though what can we really know of these obscure and anachronistic locations.    People are stuck and the objects that reveal their paralysis are distended and bloated to the point of the grotesque.   Please, I have no interest in seeing your preternaturally engorged penis that is more a growth or a goiter than the alluring staff of life.   Keep it in your pants!  And, that god-awful judgement scene.  Is this Saunders putting on his red conical cap and lighting the reading sinners among us aflame?   Is George indulging in his own prurient auto-da-fe?   Maybe not, maybe its just part of The Reverend Early Thomas’ own Bardo-Kinesis, but I, for one, am really tired of these relentless, tiresome, merciless judgement scenes – exhausted by them.  I have read The Inferno and Portrait of the Artist about 10 times each.  I don’t need to terrify the little boy in me anymore.

I suppose I am being too literal - The Bardo is more of a metaphorical treatment of our own shortcomings and misgivings here on earth.  Really?  Can’t it be about what happens next?  Don’t we all crave some clarity.  Shouldn’t we be allowed a clear glimpse of heaven.  Or maybe just the in-between and the promise it dangles in front of us.  

I confess.  I really want to go to heaven.  And, I want it to be personal.  I want all the good people and pets that I have lived with (and through) to appear in my sacred space with me.  I want to look on the faces of vast mountain ranges; to walk through the pampas in the body of a beautiful girl brushing the heads of grasses with my palms; I want to run away with gazelles and after with cheetah; I want to read poems; to sing; to play an instrument fluently.  Need I go on.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I loved and still love this book.  I have a fluid, intimate rating system that places and replaces reads in my top 10.  It is kind of a Bardo of its own.   Ulysses has stayed there for about 40 years; The Road is in there; and so now is Lincoln In the Bardo.  LIB is about #3 or so.  But, I do abhor the Saunder’s vision of The Bardo.  The notion of planting myself there makes me shiver and convulse.  In contrast, as a counterpoint, I am overwhelmed by the gorgeousness, the purity, the outright truth of the book’s masterful culmination – which is a possession, of Lincoln, and suggests that perhaps interventions of the cathartic and redeeming kind can occur and can guide us or coerce us closer to heaven.  Heaven here on earth.  Heaven on the far side of Bardo.  Whichever.  If Lincoln In the Bardo perpetuates that motion.  Then I am all in.

Author Bio:  George Saunders is the author of eight books, including the story collections Pastoralia and Tenth of December, which was a finalist for the National Book Award. He has received fellowships from the Lannan Foundation, the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and the Guggenheim Foundation. In 2006 he was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship. In 2013 he was awarded the PEN/Malamud Award for Excellence in Short Fiction and was included in Time’s list of the one hundred most influential people in the world. He teaches in the creative writing program at Syracuse University.

TAKE A DEEP BREATH by Igor Goldkind, reviewed by Belinda Subraman

TAKE A DEEP BREATH, Living With Uncertainty, is an illustrated collection of essays, poetry, and short stories confronting the pandemic in personal terms. It will provoke, entertain and stimulate your thinking into deeper realms. There is philosophy, questioning, comfort in shared experiences and a little sex too.

I will offer up a few lines few lines from various pieces in the book to give you a taste of his writing and perspective, hoping you will seek out more. You may watch a video and hear the author read and hopefully you may order the book. 

In “San Diego Beat Poets”  he writes

“We can play our songs on air violins and/
Summon the rain to drown our sorrows in a sea of greater uncertainty.” 

In “Death is in Life’s Garden” He says

“She holds his weight against her body,/
Until Death sighs and buries his head between her thighs/
So that she is certain he will return to his labours on the morrow.” 

From “Being is Becoming Still” 

“I am fearful of fully failing myself, and yet/
I love myself best when I am alone with eternity.” 

From “What Happens After You Die” 

“Our mind no longer fathoms./
So we have to leave our mind behind —/ 

To finish this sentence and fly.” 

In “He Said What She Said,” after a younger woman insists on phone sex with him but rejects meeting him in person the next day because of his age he writes:

“Later that morning, I dyed my hair black/ 

and left dark stains in the porcelain sink.” 

From “TOWARDS A PHENOMENOLOGY OF SELF” 

“We are like Nietzsche’s tightrope walker, balanced between the polarity of our historic, known self and our potential, unknown self, poised in balance our entire lives above the unknown. Zarathustra’s observation of the tightrope walker includes the will to surrender one’s own will to gravity, to calibrate two independent directional forces into one balance? “

Igor Goldkind

Interview:

Be: What is your ultimate aim in Take a Deep Breath? Is it to just “go with the flow” or maybe just use what you’ve got where you are and live in the moment? 

Igor: No. The ultimate aim of Take a Deep Breath is learning how to live with uncertainty. For some time now we have had a crisis in authority, a distrust and dissonance of truth. This is because much of the world we have been sold on as the “Real World”, isn’t. But each of us has the innate ability to recognize the difference between the so called ‘RealWorld’ and the actual world we live in. 

It takes discipline and practice to focus on the actual world by not being distracted by the ‘real world’ . 

Be: How do you feel the art relates since is is mostly abstract? Is it meant to connect somehow to the unspoken or unknowable? Did you have the artist to illustrate totally from his inspiration from your words? 

Igor:  The best way to think of art is like stained glass windows in a cathedral. The source of the light the truth of our experience, can often only be conveyed indirectly, through allegory or narrative, music or image; much as if you stare at the sun all you can see is blinding white light. But through the contrived colors of the stained glass window, the artist is able to prism the light into discernible and relatable components, so as better to apprehend the truth of experience. And yes, the illustrator Rian Hughes, read the book and interpreted the narrative content visually, to offer another stained glass for the account to pass through. 

Be: Was this writing therapy for you in addition to the Zen quality of the process of creation? 

Igor:  I think any act of creation is therapeutic. To compose a song or a poem or paint a painting, choreograph a dance, is all a deep reflection of our complicity and collaboration in the cre- ation of the experience of the world that we are having. Our imaginations both collectively and singularly, are in-the-world. It’s important to be self aware of our participation in our own experience. We are not spectators for or of, our lives; we are the ones who create our own lives. It is useful to be conscious of and remain aware of that constant process. 

Be: Is this a creative text to encourage people to use writing as therapy, an inspiration for the individual to explore their deeper realms or is it simply a sharing from your “deeper realms or both? 

Igor:  I think my book is intended to encourage people to better understand themselves in their relation to the world, others and their unconscious selves. So much of the outcomes of our reality is dependent on unconscious forces within us that play on the world almost as if we were more than one person. Writing helps us integrate those various selves into an integrity we can recognize and identify as our self. I use my own experiences as an example as a demonstration of what I prescribe. 

Be: Do you or have you worked in the field of psychology? 

Igor:  I studied both psychology and philosophy at university and had the privilege of studying with the French post Structuralist Michel Foucault at La Sorbonne in Paris. Much of my thinking is Lacanian but I fall back more on practical philosophy, than psychology. I find that psychology is too often focussed on treating symptoms rather than exploring causes. 

Be: Ultimately how would you like people to react to your book or what would you like people to take away from what you have offered? 

Igor:  I hope it helps people. I hope it serves like a tap on the shoulder and a ‘hey, look over there at that’, which is so often what we really need when we’re fixated on anxiety or depression. I also want people to think carefully about suicide. Not dismiss it or be scared of it, but to realize that most people at one time or another have thoughts of suicide and it is important to know how to process those thoughts rather than suppress them. 

As I say in Take a Deep Breath, if you can’t get around something or over something, you have to go through it to get past. 

Or as the second chicken replied to the first chicken on the opposite side of the road when he asked him how to get to the other side: 

“But you are on the other side of the road!” It’s recognition that counts. 

GAS Featured Poet: Matthew Bowers

Gypsies~

We were gypsies

Our hearts free

Dressed in bangles

And bells on our toes

Everything was rhythmic

Silk, flowing

Golden tresses 

Azure eyes

Bohemian

No one could touch us

Patchouli oils

Nag Champa breeze

We danced in circles

Beneath thick foliage sky

Bonfire radiance

Golden glow

Skin shone like copper

And tasted of honey

We settled for the night

Though our souls

Were of fire

Inspired by muse

Creating love

Decadence

MagicK

I thought I heard you call to me

Within a subtle wind of salt

Remember me?

The poetry?

All the art

And music that we scored?

A memory grows long and thin

A shadow just before sunset

Yes…

I remember

And wear the scars 

Of freedom and love

About me as a steel cage

Beautiful

Time

Gypsy vagabond

We had everything 

And nothing to lose

They can't take love

Away from lovers

They can't take dreams

Away from the dreamers

They can't take memories

Away from their makers 

White stallion elegance

Majestic in its beauty

Tall, thick, proud

Valiant charcoal eyes

Mane, flowing like a waterfall 

Powerful

Perfectly manicured familiar

He rides upon the air

That makes dreams

Come true…

 Matthew moved to Boston MA. and Hollywood CA. to write and perform music. Not long afterwards he merged his lyrics and poetry into a more focused pastime. 

In 2020 he started his concept The Calling which incorporates YouTube, podcast, group, Facebook page, as well as website. 

GAS Featured Artist: Hananya Goodman, presented by Sylvia Van Nooten

Hananya Goodman’s work explodes off the page. His brush strokes create a complex vision of depth and color.  Each painting is like a poetic insight into the artist, the asemic letters creating emotion in the viewer.  He is a prolific artist, his almost daily sessions produce many pieces, each a standalone representation of the interpretation of beauty. ~ Sylvia Van Nooten  

 Hananya Goodman in his own words:

Most of my life I have been immersed in the world of books. My upbringing, education, career and passion have been driven and tied up with reading and writing. A few years ago the writing suddenly turned to scribbling with fingers dancing across the page with strokes, scripts, marks and drawings. At that time, I was trying to find some connection between textile and text. In contrast with the language in books, these asemic marks had minimal to zero cognitive intent or meaning.  Aesthetically though I recognized emergent novel values and pleasures.  When I started seriously doing this art for the first time a few years ago, I saw this as an integral continuation or elaboration of a larger project called Talmud Hananya. Talmud in Hebrew means "learning." Talmud Hananya is my personal life-long project to learn about life and the world.  It is a massive collection of handwritten scribbles, jottings, notes, words, phrases, and paragraphs from which emerges gestures and drawings of organic feeling and sensing.

The images created have now taken on a life of their own. Today doing art gives me a sense of control or creative accomplishment in my life, it adds meaning and value to my life, and it gives pleasure to me and others through play and display.

I hope to pursue in the future explorations of the relationships between asemic and semic, a character set based on asemic images, and something Talmudic or kabbalistic.

Each of my images is created in the moment, without any initial image, language or intent.  They are very visceral process oriented executions in the sense of automaticity and situational immediacy rather than imagined, constrained and verified in order to conform with some preconceived plan. The work arises from a continuous engagement with the medium, until some significant quality appears to assert itself and emerges from the paper. The very moment of recognition of a quality or character is the point I stop and complete a piece. I have a voice inside telling me: "stop this piece" and "stop this session."

I consider each image as a character, both in a personal identity sense, and in an ideographic/logography sense. As these characters are born and fill my studio and begin to interact in meaningful new ways, I hope one day to join them into a cohesive language family. They live with me and one another in a sense, so I have trouble parting with the originals.

Showing art has connected me with a community of like-hearted and like-minded artists and followers around the world. I am grateful for their friendship, and my images are glad to participate in this larger world.

My only real self-defined community are those doing asemic art and abstract art. There are many wonderful artist friends I would love to tell you about but I will only mention Floriana Rigo as the most important influence on me as an artist. I continue to find asemic art, and groups devoted to asemic art, to be a nourishing source of ideas, inspiration and receptive audience. I am most active there and have benefited enormously and significantly from its members who are loosely bound by the ever adaptive  definition of asemic writing and abstract art.

Most of my public works can be viewed on Facebook. 

I also have a nascent website with higher quality images. 

I have exhibited at BROLO Centro d’Arte e Cultura, Mogliano, Veneto, Italy and at the MAINSITE Contemporary Art gallery, Norman, Oklahoma.

Typical artistic materials are 50 x 70 cm, 250 gram paper, gouache, India ink and soft chalk. Tools: lulav (middle shaft of the palm tree), cleaning brushes, scrapers, tubes, rolling pins, pens/pencils, bamboo spoons, and other odd objects. I have over 8,000 pieces and do an average of 20 pieces at a time. Each piece is created during a daily session lasting about two hours. I have a particular atmosphere or ritual I create during a session which  is very important to me. All pieces are done in a fugue-like state where I interact with the media and tools. Once completed in the session, the pieces do not receive any further additions. I usually show all my work on Facebook the day after the session.

I am the Director of Libraries for an engineering college. I have been an academic librarian for over 20 years but before that I worked in education for 20 years. Originally from Racine, Wisconsin, I graduated from the University of Wisconsin where I studied biology. I did graduate studies at Brandeis and Simmons. I currently live near the Sea in Ashdod, Israel. 

Publications I am most proud of include a book,  Between Jerusalem and Benares: Studies in Comparative Judaism and Hinduism,

 Kabbalah: A Newsletter of Current Research in Jewish Mysticism, 

 "Geomancy Texts of Rabbi Shalom Shabbazi." 

 "The Legend of the Dull-Witted Child Who Grew Up to Be a Genius" (on Einstein) with Barbara Wolff