by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
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 Jason Spicer A man was shot, in the alley behind my grungy apartment last night, again. His bald pate bounced a stream of pleated light through the blinds on my second story window. No sirens or news crews, just muddy boots and forlorn faces—men who needed sleep, in uniforms…
by Abigail Warren (After Corot’s Hagar in the Wilderness) Ish drives a cab down Eldridge Street and mutters under his breath as he passes the temple. He speaks to no one as they enter and exit his taxi. After work, he walks Hester and Orchard Street searches for half smoked…