Those early days, Olinville Avenue, junk man, street car veggies pouring out of small trucks, little kids up and down the streets, girls with pigtails, boys, scraped knees. At night the steam poured out across the flat, across the house, the street, the sky and carried me far away to the sunflower moon, shining down with mystery and benevolence and wisdom and promise.
Bronx Flat – Moon, Radiator, Shade
09 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted #Prose Poems/#Short Fiction, POETRY, VISUALSin