Stephen Hawking on the Beach

in the mind
a day is a thousand years,

seeing but unseen,
moving but unmoved

a watch in the night,
on the sea in the night

a night without moons
without spears,
without watchers
in the night

of tigers burning,
burning bright,
in the watches of the night

in the seasons of the witch
in the attic of the mind.


1. Philiip Glass, Einstein On the Beach
2. Psalm 90:4
3. Isaac Bashevis Singer, Gimpel the Fool
4. William Blake, The Tyger
5. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Theologian’s Tale
6. Margaret Wise Brown, Goodnight Moon:
7. Donovan, Season of the Witch



on a mountain.

in the corner.

and under the table,

a fortress of distance
under the table.

a separation of dead air
under the table.

and the song of a dead canary
coming from the pantry

under the table.


MR. ELIOT, HE DEAD: Remixed Poem

dead men’s bones
litter the alleys
with the pearls
that were their eyes

while the evening
spreads across the skies
like a fresh cadaver
on a dinner table,

like a baker’s dozen
short the 13th Dane,
or an ebb without a flow,
or a bang without a whimper.


SOURCES: T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock; The Hollow Men. William Shakespeare, Hamlet.



a rock,
a stone,
a pebble,
a grain of sand.

(nothing inside / nothing outside)

in out, open close
like a lunar tide
or a severed hand
or the mouth
of a dead rabbit
rotting on a rock becoming

a stone,
a pebble,
a grain of sand.


              “I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in it to live up to mine. ~ Fritz Perls

I am different than you. Not better, and actually probably worse. In a sense, ‘someone despised and rejected of men’ not because I’m ‘better’ or more Christ-like, but because I’m truly, uncomfortably different — the misfit, the odd man out, the outsider, the green monkey, the guy who gives himself a birthday party and nobody comes. Thank God.

(For me, the best part of having been to someone’s house for dinner is driving home. And I seriously think they feel the same.)

I am wise to the fool and a fool to the wise. Arrogant if I act, lazy if I rest. Less than what you expect of me, and more than I’m able to accept or understand of myself.

I can be teaching the ancient Zohar with the authority of the Holy Spirit one minute, and belching and farting and scratching my ass while watching TV cartoons the next. And to tell the truth, I feel and see no difference between them.

(How can you expect me to be consistent when God itself is so full of contradictions? But you do, even though I am not, and don’t hope to be.)

God has done all this to me to keep me from the world so that I may be closer to Him, and I’m more thankful for it than I can say.

I’m always alone, but never lonely.

L.G. Corey


~ For Leonard Cohen (b.1934 – d. 2016)
Gravity, reversed,
falls heavenward.
Sticks and stones
and broken bones
scatter earthward
at the foot of
Bald Mountain
where the warlocks
twitch and scream,
“Oh God! Oh God!”
and plant their seed
in each other’s gardens
for a moon-ripe harvest
of poison apples
baked in a pie 
with blackbirds
who begin to sing:
Lord, have mercy!
Christ, have mercy!
Holy Mary, pray for us!
NOTE: I was blessed and grateful to be one of Leonard’s personal friends for the past 12 years. He mentions me, my work and our friendship in the last interview he gave in the New Yorker Magazine just a few months before he died. He has gone out of my life, but not my heart..

LEONARD & ME: Preview of A Possibly Forthcoming Book About My 12-Year Friendship w/ Leonard Cohen

“Except for a few close students and friends (all of whom i swore to secrecy) until now I never mentioned publicly the 12-year, mutually-enriching friendship Leonard Cohen and I had with each other.

“I did not want it to seem as if I were exploiting his unbelievable support of me and my work the way some spiritual teachers exploit their relationships with similar celebrities.

“My long-term friendship with Leonard was based not only on his deep interest in my Kabbalah teachings (as described in the New Yorker interview with him) but also, over time, on the fact that we were kindred souls who admired, cherished and grew from each others strengths and weaknesses.” ~ L.G. Corey

NOTE: If I ever do write this book about Leonard and me (and I’m not so sure I ever will) I won’t allow it to be published until after my own death — again because I do not want to appear in my lifetime to be capitalizing in any way on my friendship with him.

Suffice it to say for now that I doubt either of us would have made it this far — remember, he died at 82 only a few days before my own 82nd b’day — without the support of the other. At least I know I wouldn’t. ~ LGC



[NOTE: This poem is by my beloved friend, Leonard Cohen `and posted here to commemorate his recent passing]

For you
I will be a ghetto jew
and dance
and put white stockings
on my twisted limbs
and poison wells
across the town

For you
I will be an apostate jew
and tell the Spanish priest
of the blood vow
in the Talmud
and where the bones
of the child are hid

For you
I will be a banker jew
and bring to ruin
a proud old hunting king
and end his line

For you
I will be a Broadway jew
and cry in theatres
for my mother
and sell bargain goods
beneath the counter

For you
I will be a doctor jew
and search
in all the garbage cans for foreskins
to sew back again

For you
I will be a Dachau jew
and lie down in lime
with twisted limbs
and bloated pain
no mind can understand