I am uploading this poem basically as filler until I can add some more interviews and articles next week:
Summer in Greensboro
by Charles Wood
These summer streets are filled with the smell of freshly cut
Grass and french fries.
Leather skinned hobos hustle college kids for loose change during the day
While shivering for salvation and cheap drugs at night.
The faces of friends blur together as the hours fall on each other
Like clumsy dominoes.
I don’t know where I am
But I know it’s not heaven.