Poetry Corner - Part 3 Life’s Little Callings When I stopped walking I was still able to walk. I could stride and stomp with willful indignation, run, even, if I had to catch a train or dodge a sudden catcall in a poorly lit part of my youth. I was vigorous and sure, even if my steps were rather tentative and wayward. I could walk. I was certain that picking up the pace was only a matter of time and decision and a less skittish inclination. Vim and visions of arcadian byways of unruly platelets in my brain – char or a sudden wormhole, or, I imagine a fffft – like stray hairs burnt and offered to undiscerning gods – a rent in my own bitty share of inner space/time. There is no need to mark time in footfalls. No need to step lively, to march to any drummers, indifferent or rhythmically pedestrian. My will is a rogue who insists no more on inviting me into the bushes after the too-slow dance
Crumbling City
I walk the half-deser past the few people risking contagion, most wearing masks few distancing,
to take precautions, ignorantly believing the plague is over. The empty shops, re chillingly remind me even when disease the shuttered busine closed beyond reop lost enterprises that nurtured the cit no longer nourish those they maintain in a time-honoured to allow different liv of all conditions to manage existenc education, comforts subsisting, as people always ha to provide for famili support the state, live the best life pos
that interfere rudely with the hope for to
By Kate Falvey. Kate Falvey work has been fairly widely published in journals Review, published through City Tech/CUNY, where she teachReview.
24
By Gary Beck Gary Beck has spent m a theatre director and when he couldn’t earn has also been a tennis salvage diver. His origi of Moliere, Aristophan
and essays have appea magazines and his pub poetry collections, 13 collections, one collec books of plays. Gary li
