As a flâneuse — one who drifts aimlessly for great distances through city streets — I like few pursuits better than setting aside an entire day, ideally no less than eight full hours, ideally with my best flâneur friend and fellow poet, Eric Plattner, to wander observantly from point to point. Read more
I turned west off Western Avenue beneath the railroad bridge that spans 26th Street, drove a few blocks, and then turned right past the Lawndale Gardens row house projects, where shirtless guys were hooping not far from Washtenaw Park. Read more
I was 30 pages into Denis Johnson’s first novel, Angels, when I discovered that one of the scenes takes place in the very same neighborhood, on the very same block, where I currently live, near the corner of Clark and Wilson in Uptown. Read more
I’d come to 75th Street beset by a craving for caramel cake, my ultimate sugar fix, a cherished token of the South I left behind three years ago. Read more
