The synagogue of my youth wandered throughout the city, from the basement of the Methodist church on the Manayunk hills to the East Falls nursing home…
Tag: Prose Poetry
He demands I be a man. What is it to be a man? I ask him.
The latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“When I got out of work a giant pizza was on my car, covering my windshield, covering my roof and the glass of the hatchback.”
Another Chicago Magazine 