Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Poetry | Tags: Basketball Photography, Basketball Poetry, Lowell, Tom Meschery
Our red brick square gymnasium was an anachronism
Among the steel-ribbed, concrete muscled ellipses
And angles of the day; it was full of shadows –
The floor corduroy, the backboards wood
And the rims were bent with age
(the relentless ricochet of basketballs),
It had none of the embellishments
Found in more modern gyms.
It was simply a no-nonsense structure
Built to house players not spectators.
Surrounded by its gray walls and wrinkled floor
We practiced two-to-six, six days a week.
And throughout that time – four years –
Our coach, who was as old as the building,
Taunted and inspired us, swore and cajoled us,
He taught us to play without frills.
We became red brick and corduroy
And learned to see through shadows.
by Tom Meschery
Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Photography, Poetry | Tags: Basketball Poetry, Cliff Dweller
you realize that
the spirit of the universe
swirls around you
like a gentle
The lowering sun beckons
your eyes and nothing else
This is all you need
This is your life,
that hunk of
one city street,
and you become
a thing of beauty
the evening’s stillness
with this pumpkin
in your hand
to be outside
because you have
a small hole to fill
A net of darkness
that you love
more than a best friend
Street lights are shining again
in the shadow of the city
You’re in the middle,
catching the ball
before you leap
as high as Olympus
And suddenly you see
on the ball
the very last drop
by Cliff Dweller
photo via waiting4brooklyn
Filed under: Bread City, New York City, Photography, Poetry | Tags: Food, New York City Culture, West Side
Hot bowl of pastina,
23rd Street and the river.
Subway grime patina,
shout to chopped liver.
photo by Stephan Alessi
New York cops in Jersey
and girls who never smile:
there’s something going on there
that’s in a secret file.
photo by Ana Kras
Filed under: Bread City, Endangered Aesthetics, Photography, Poetry | Tags: Basketball Archeology, Basketball Culture, Street Basketball
Swishing on chain nets
the very last cigarette
the first bowl of cereal
subway timing miracles
crisp American dollars.
Filed under: Bread City, Photography, Poetry | Tags: 1990s Aesthetics, Alfonso Ribeiro, Carlton Banks, Fresh Prince, Nike Air Force
Carlton with the tongues out
white Air Force optometrist
bout to fly off on a carpet
like you never even heard of this.
Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Photography, Poetry | Tags: Holga Photography, Summer
Hot long purple
here we come.