The grey, cyclone gate squeaked as I stepped through it from the yard of my 1960s childhood into the Berwyn alley. Zigging weeds reached through zagging lines of broken concrete. Across from our garage, Mr. Haney’s scratched, yellow door moaned, “Paint me!” I looked left – south – at the telephone pole rising to where […]
Author Archives: Rich Kordesh
Posted inOne Views
Crossing in A Minor
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They called him ‘Padre’
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Unwrapping hope
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Across Twelfth Street
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Listening in a time of ferment
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Music in the shadows
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