Joshua+Block

My poetry portfolio is going to be here. (And it's going to be good.)

Memory poem (rough draft):

 * I will use repetition and play with punctuation.

hand moving back and forth colorful momentos peeling back windowsill covered moment of thoughtlessness who knew sight of blood "Mom!" pane of glass taller than a child standing on windowsill new phase of childhood changes

I Was Raised by My People
I was raised by Grandma Faye speaking with Yiddish phrases always commenting on the changes in the neighborhood. Cramped, old apartment filled with sharp edges and fragile things, "No one should be treated like that." Crossing through the eight speeding lanes of traffic on Queens Boulevard even when her eyes were clouded with age.

I was raised by privilege in the small town north of NYC. Little did kids know about the world beyond their bubble.