From the Archive: Unbound
It’s always been ground glass, scraping against my insides. I imagine a light held to the place where I open would illuminate a mess of torn flesh, throbbing red-wet.
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Ted Kennedy
3 posts
David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: Something’s Happening Out There
The big crowd stretched form the gold-domed State House to Park Street. I had the urgent feeling that we were part of something. That we counted.
David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: Pedagogy of the Oppressed
[Boston] was a map out of the damage of my self-awareness and into some new evidence of beauty.