LUNCH POSTS
Wilco_No More Poetry
Wilco_Forget The Flowers
A STEP AWAY FROM THEM
by Frank O’Hara
It’s my lunch hour, so I go
for a walk among the hum-colored
cabs. First, down the sidewalk
where laborers feed their dirty
glistening torsos sandwiches
and Coca-Cola, with yellow helmets
on. They protect them from falling
bricks, I guess. Then onto the
avenue where skirts are flipping
above heels and blow up [...]
Fuck, I said, loudly, fuck this broke ass city.
TV On The Radio_Family Tree
My Liberty scarf was dragging in the gravel and my yoga clothes had spilled out of my backpack.
I pulled out the credit card sized map Tulane had given my class at orientation. I’d never looked at it before: I’d evacuated from New Orleans [...]
I am safe; I left New Orleans early and now I’m in Memphis. I’m dry, grateful, and a better houseguest to Republicans than you ever might have imagined.
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