Charles O'Hay

Slouched on a park bench, the daily storm kicking cans in your head You watch the faces move in slow parade among the tulips and bronze: Shoppers, retirees, students workers spilling from glass towers for a hot dog and a moment’s sun. The faces are wet cigars, creamed corn, barbed wire, broken clocks; the faces […]

All night the city had spent turning itself to licorice: red black, the streets and buildings getting loose, trying on masks. At the bar, Nola’s on stage stripped down to show how gypsy hair can fall across a body not yet gone to hell from junk. A guy with a wedding ring tells me she’s […]