I reached in and helped her out. She had fallen into the bushes, and the other residents were laughing at her, calling her Vanessa the Drunk, Vanessa the Whore, Vanessa the Pig. She isn't a drunk, whore or a pig, she's a sixty-three year old lady who drinks too much, and gets sloppy, and used […]

http://newsblog.projo.com/2011/05/poet-and-playwright-edwin-honi.html I had the honor of meeting Edwin a few years ago, and though not quite the kind of meeting I would have liked, I was profoundly effected by his presence. October 21, 2008 He’s old, now, closer than ever to infinite eternity. His mind is gone, the brilliant thoughts that once sprang to life […]

Three flights of trash filled stairs, cat urine overwhelming, barricaded door, filthy floor, empty fridge, a kitchen void of food, five hungry kids, girls with no shirts, babies with no diapers, hospital sheets instead of blankets, empty wall sockets, nothing to fill the plugs, no TV,no radio, no blow dryers or cell phone chargers, no […]

She had been down this road before and was ready for me. "Do you know where you are?" I asked. "Right here at home, 572 Fedora Street, Providence, Rhode Island, USA 02908." "What day is it?" "Thursday, May 26, 0737 hrs, SIR!" she snapped off a crisp salute. "Who is the president?" "President Barack Obama, […]

It’s well past midnight, on a dark, quiet street on the outskirts of Providence. The house we were called to was dark.

At the top of the stairs, inside a nondescript home in a public housing project, a rowhouse if you will, wrapped in a blanket, on top of a mattress, much like a mummy, or moth, was a man.

Life is hard. Living is hard. I don’t know a soul who doesn’t struggle with it at one time or another.