By Maggie Kennedy “The orange tastes like a refrigerator,” my son says,spitting out his bite and pretending to gag,and though I have never tasted a refrigeratorI know what he means. The orange tastes like the plastic it was wrapped in.And though I have never eaten plastic,the conjured smell fills my…
by Joseph V. Kleponis I Two monarch butterflies, Four orange, red and black wings, Violate tiny wild violets. II Two towheaded boys, Toy pistols in hand, Charge down the hillside. III Two milkweed seeds, Crazy lost snowflakes, Bend tips of blades of grass. IV Two…
by Joseph V. Kleponis The downtown stretch Of the Southeast Expressway Is underground now; The North End and Downtown, Financial District and Waterfront, Are connected, yet separated, By the expanse Of the Rose Kennedy Walkway. Of course, the older neighborhoods – South Boston and Roxbury, Dorchester and its other half…
by Joseph V. Kleponis Merrimac, oh Merrimack, “Swiftwater place”, You are gentle and pure As you tumble over rocks Rising at the Pemigewasset And the Winnespasaukee. Wending over hills and cascading Through forest falls and streams, A place of abundant fish, You fed the ancient Abenaki and Pennacook Before rushing…