Dark Pines, poetry by Donnie Welch
Able-Bodied, poetry by Kieran Collier
A construction company clear cut
the woods behind my old house
and sold all the pines for lumber.
For the first time in centuries, shadows
disappeared and light revived the color
in the dull brown pine needles. Continue reading
On the 5 train there is a man who gets on
somewhere between Franklin Ave. and Union Square.
Says his day has not been fine,
the way most people riding a train
from Brooklyn into Manhattan’s days
have not been fine. Continue reading