Cracks in the pavement,
potholes pebbled with cold mix:
ice-hardened tires thump and jar.
Grip the wheel tightly;
hubcaps litter the street.
This is the season of lost pieces.
Thread carefully through the debris,
the frozen plastic
and the scraps of metal.
Streets fall apart,
paint flakes from the fenders,
axles bounce and bend,
and all we can do
is watch the rear view mirror
straining for a glimpse of summer
or wait for signs of hope”Men Working”
when suddenly the streets
flower with orange barrels in the spring.
Ethics of Rhetoric in Times of War
What we say matters. And the way we say it matters. This is especially true in times…
How the State Failed Noelia Castillo
On March 26, Noelia Castillo, a twenty-five-year-old Spanish woman, was killed by her doctors at her own…
The Mind’s Profane and Sacred Loves
The teachers you have make all the difference in your life. That they happened to come into…