
Spring, 2020 by Peter Crowley
Spring raises its rabbit ears and goes blind.A blind beggar coughs lyrics through his shoesThe passerby winces, hugging the sidewalk’s edgeThe arm is the repository site for depositing coronaSide roads are golden, filtered fromthe many desolate people who choke up the bike path –side roads are the antithesis: post-nuclear Armageddon, noiseless vacancy, though, eerily, all the cars are home Spring raises its rabbit ears and goes … Continue reading Spring, 2020 by Peter Crowley