Sitting on the Berlin Wall
January 1990 On my way back to Belfast I wandered past Bebelplatz,smelled the air for burning books, glanced at Brandenburg […]
January 1990 On my way back to Belfast I wandered past Bebelplatz,smelled the air for burning books, glanced at Brandenburg […]
Sometimes when we lie in bedyou turn your back asking for a scratch.With my left hand I hold my bookand
wants Pancho Villa, Dead or Alive, Shirley Temple mooning, Lincoln still watching the play in his stove-pipe hat.
I’m upstairs in my teenage bedroom, lights out,listening to WABC, Cousin Brucie, under the covers,my hair so tightly wound around
We spent those stifling endless summer afternoons on hot front porches, cutting paper dolls from Sears catalogs, making up our