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CLIMATE SIGNALS, SUNSET PARK John Linstrom after Justin Brice Guariglia’s public art installation, Brooklyn The traffic sign flashes pointillistic messages into the sloping night— two boys...
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POETRY ROOD RIDDLE Pete Green I the East am one arm. I am West the other. My forehead is an unfurled name. I will always be warm with his body I bore like a mother. My roots are the roots of...
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POETRY BROOKLYN RADIATOR John Linstrom Another Wednesday, another chill deep enough the oven’s on and open. It’s two days till we touch, bump our butts maneuvering the boxlike...
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POETRY DEAR SHADOW John Linstrom It is long since we talked, since we walked the Hudson like we used to. Long since the rabbits in the bushes watched us darkly as we hopped together, you...
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DAY SLEEPERS Around midafternoon, our dreams slip out to have a walk around. They slough off the brightness of day, cloud our vision and take our pulses. They thumb through all our...
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SUNRISE, WITH MOTHERLY INFLUENCE My mac & cheese has plasticized overnight; the fluorescent light's too bright as I set the noisy coffee pot. I'm sipping bitter blackness by the window after...
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ANNUALTHAW That kind of weather: zip up your jacket but leave your hat at home. Ice squeaks under boots now as water squirms below it, over broken slabs of sidewalk. Last night filled my eyes...
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FOUND IN THE CITY —-for Mo With the feel of your lip balm I walk through the light, sharp distance of skyline, sun setting behind— did we notice the foam from the Con Edison plant, the waves...
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SWEET POTATO ELEGY The box-dry grit of root and spackled dirt like some rock's underside turned up too long betrays no hint of affability or orange scarcely, nearly russet, whorled into a joint...
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Liber, George
"Climate Signals, Sunset Park"
(April 2021)
