A very fresh poem of mine, reflecting on the uncanny weirdness of life under relative quarantine in New York City, is now available over at Writers Resist in their "Viral Resistance Issue"—check it out here.
Auto shops still rollicking with laughter,
a boy walks by, dribbles his ball alone. (full poem)
Thanks so much to Kit-Bacon Gressitt for snatching up this strange little poem of mine and giving it a home. I don't pretend to offer anything wise or newly insightful about the novel coronavirus in this short lyrical piece, but hopefully I captured something of the uncanny weirdness of living in the epicenter of this crisis as it has unfolded in the U.S. Inside that center, the other week, I found a margin, and from that place came this little poem.