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  • The City Breathing

    The City Breathing

    • July 8, 2014

    The City Breathing Consider three a.m. when the city begins to breathe without labor, its inky exhalations unfolding around the custodians of night: doorman, trash picker, street sweep, caretaker, cook. The woman making a bed from slatted bench, the man rattling iron grates to summon the comfort of echoes. A bus driver carves a path

  • Trouble Down the Road

    Trouble Down the Road

    • June 23, 2014

    Trouble Down the Road At the flat top grill, he was all business, flung raw eggs dead center into the corned beef hash like a strapping southpaw. In the alley, with me, he was all ideas. Said he’d be leaving soon, had a shot back east— a tryout for the big leagues. Said his sister

  • Read the Writing

    Read the Writing

    • June 3, 2014

    Read the Writing Read the writing on the cinder block wall: Joker, Jasper, Dopey, Termite, Tokes, Crow. It’s not an “is it art?” debate, at all; these are the monochromatic zip codes of my gangster, tattooed, sharp-creased cousins. Scribbled in black on a bus bench, strangled names crossed out, over names crossed out again, red