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Gerry LaFemina


The Sound A Body Makes

Spring 2002 | Poetry

Only three days later I realized the chalk outline was gone, faded, no doubt, in the rains that flushed the gutters clean, & now a steady line of haze as the sun walks its beat. There were photographers, yes, a few nights back: flashbulbs burp [...]


Odors [Kokulon]

Spring 2002 | Poetry

I am chilly, nephew. I can smell the fire from the neighbor's home and hope to get its heat. Don't say that flames have no odors, they do, nephew, but only the truly cold can understand. Don't wander the marketplaces or stand before the stores. D [...]