St. Louis was my sunrise.
The horizon and I by ourselves.
I met my match mid-twirl.
For a moment, time stood still in Central Park.
Puerto Rico, where life's greatest gift was given
and taken too soon.
We built our life in Brooklyn.
Now I live alone.
My existence remains for others.
By Nina Daro, Mahalia Hughes-Roussel, and Allison Rapp
Based on #100hardtruth # #92, our oral histories, our oral stories are our truth
Experimental Escape Routes Needed: One Block
Muriel Rukeyser tells us: “Poetry can extend the document.”
How does one document a neighborhood? What kind of poetics are required?
Neighborhoods occur at different scales:
The house, the stoop, the street, the quarter.
Where I live, life is block by block.
The block is a container
The block is a party
The block is a conflict
The block is a city
The block is an outrage
The block is a safehouse
The block is a trap
The block is being undone
The block is being rebuilt
The block is mine
The block is theirs
The block is filthy
The block is a history
The block is this tree, this stone, this door, this flag, this poem.
By Joseph Entin