The Hub The Hub
Boston's oak trees Drop tiny bald heads Some wear berets. It's a city of character But no soul.
Apr 8, 2009 / Books & the Arts / William Corbett
Clear November Morning Clear November Morning
O Brooklyn's harp, Manhattan spires All the liars rough with others' lives, Jesus sayers, hard moneyed men Whose hearts are fists of power Dishonor and death will find you out.
Apr 8, 2009 / Books & the Arts / William Corbett