Poetry / Poets

FROM MY WINDOW AT AN AMERICAN PLACE, SOUTHWEST 1932 —Alfred Stieglitz by Kate Ruebenson

The southwest wall of the building cracks: dried skin. One place on a four-sided body tired of standing, weakened by age and a surplus of squinting. Early morning sun has beaten against window eyes wide open after residents pulling up lid-shades have let light establish dominance over the brick which by night cools. Begins to … Continue reading