The East Village

Chris McCreary

from The Exiles

Fled his land and language and cast her eyes westward. Set sail wearing grave threads of mourning and passed the nights by renaming the brightest stars. Saw cities of apothecaries, cities of brothels and cobblers, of discontent and ennui, all this seeming doubly strange through a strange language in which she could not pray.


Port-side cities of rivers, tributaries and estuaries, land-locked cities of crossroads, boulevards, and thoroughfares where panhandlers are fended off with parasols, makeshift asylums housed in public squares, sweat shops disguised as wedding chapels, cemeteries doubling as schoolyards, courtroom roofs as launching pads for hot air balloons.


Volume Thirteen Index