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Seven Haimkus and One Bobbe Myse

Haim Frumkin is the author of several brilliant forthcoming masterpieces. Aggressively attractive and scintillatingly subversive, he is loosely-renowned as a pioneer of Judeo-Japanese-erotic poetry, and as a fount of contra-capitalist wisdom. He enjoys the simple things in life, like cocktails, walks on the beach, and Jacques Derrida.




Candles. Wine bar. You

ask: What’s your ideal bagel?

It’s baygel. Date over.


From Vilna mit love.

Art. Sheer art.  Why is Yiddish

porn under-rated?


Recolouring my

Trotsky tattoo. The world feels

more just already.


Caressing. Your back.

Each glimpse, a dream. Wafts of joy.

Its Grundrisse night.


Mid-Birthright, I ask:

When will we see Buber’s grave?

Silence. We flirt on.


Breakfast. Maoist

omelette. Nine broken eggs. Pinch

of disappointment.


Re-watching Fiddler.

Depressing. Capitalist

apologia with songs.






Barbara is by most measures the best-looking girl in my Introduction to Critical Theory module. Everything she does is beyond perfect. Convinced she will be the mother of my children, I approach post-lecture to engage her in exhilarating conversation.


After the small talk, we get to the big talk:


“Who’s your favourite thinker?” I ask.

“What a question! I really don’t know…it’d have to be…Edmund Burke”, she replies.


Oh no. Why must it always come to this? Socialism or Barbara?






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