Lawrence Ferlinghetti: I Genitori Perduti
Souls transmigrated maybe
from Hudson’s shrouded shores
across all the silent years—
Which one’s my maybe mafioso father
Jose Padua: The Shape I’m In
it was the middle of a Lower East Side winter and the heat
in my apartment that night was up so high, after being completely out
for a week, that I couldn’t help but feel sexy, knowing I had pork buns
in my tiny fridge
Tony Gloeggler: Fade Away
In 1964, my father and uncle
loaded the U HAUL and we left
Bed Stuy with all the other white
people and moved to Long Island.
Barbara Crooker: Queens
Wielding her cane
like a weapon, she pushed pedestrians out of the way,
held it up like a banner as we crossed against the light.
Susan Kelly-DeWitt: Photograph of Your Father Sewing Needlepoint At Precinct Headquarters, 1956
tugging the yarn taut, as though it was
the most natural thing
in the world for a burly
detective, a tough Irish cop
Paul Christensen: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Twit
I used to wander around on lower Broadway in Manhattan when I was still a teenager. I had a dead-end job at a valve company taking orders from plumbers wanting a gate valve or oversized coupling for an apartment building going up.
Tony Gloeggler: World of Wonders
He loves watching cars glide by,
sliding his special pass in the slot
to pay, sitting by a window, feeling
the drum and hum beneath his feet.
Richard Deming: Struth’s unpeopled photos evoke the loneliness of urban life
Sixth Avenue at 50th Street (1978) by Thomas Struth I’m making my way across lower Manhattan on an early May afternoon, my mask snug and my glasses quickly fogging … Continue reading
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Recuerdo
We hailed, “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-
covered head,
And bought a morning paper which neither of us
read;
And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and
pears,
and we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
Video: Soul Of The City
The owners of six small ethnic restaurants in New York City show how they’re coming back with the help of their communities after the Covid shutdown.
Sharon Fagan McDermott: On Memory and Writing
In one of my favorite memories, I am peeking through my fingers, shivering, as New York Harbor, the heliport, the bustling-streets of New York City, and–even the skyscrapers— plummet away … Continue reading
Richard Levine: Day Labor
This is New York, drinking coffee in plain
blue paper cups at dawn. In every tongue,
the dream begins with showing up.
F.R. Foksal: The Indignation Parade
you ran the risk of
making your whole world
fall down on its
head
