Thursday, February 24, 2011

Raining Rigatoni

Tommy called his ex. She hung up on him within five minutes. That was a bad thing. They were together for six years, and then the miscarriage happened. Everyone pointed fingers and blamed the other. Tensions rose and they split. Before that he was with another girl straight out of high school for seven years. They had a child who Tommy hasn't seen in two years--ever since he stumbled into homelessness. Other than that, Tommy lives pretty well. He has two homes, a tent in the woods and a spot in an abandoned building downtown. He just wants socks.

Friday, February 11, 2011

A night in Akron


I return from a night in the cold,
Sunken faces and stories told.
I slink again back to my warm bed,
They retreat to lay on death's head.
Ordinary people, with ordinary lives,
Then the pain of wandering arrives.
Nothing, no comfort I can bring,
I don't understand this whole thing.
I merely reach out my hand,
And relate to a man who many misunderstand.
Days spent lost and nights on the street,
No warmth—frost finds his feet.
Looking into his dark brown eyes,
I find a blessing hidden in disguise:
How lucky we are,
To survive without such a scar,
And to know when the sun sets,
We sleep without pain's threats.

--Evan Luse

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Sub-Zero vs. Johnny Cage











"We all look like fat marshmallows. Tonight was rough for everyone. I think the weather really gets everyone down, but the little hope we can give them is worth the freezing cold feet and hands."--Allyssa Dziulaj, scribe

Try your hand at poverty by playing SPENT. Will you pay those hefty gas bills or fix your car?

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Project HOPE, domesticated


We stopped at the library and found Denny in his usual seat with his nose deep in another novel. He fit right in with the furniture; there wasn't much human about him apart from the occasional turn of the page. He sat bundled in layers of winter-wear, his face nearly drowning in his low ball cap, over-sized thick glasses, and untamed beard.

He jumped in my car, and I gave him a ride to St. Bernard's, where we found some other friends. Following a short discussion, Denny and I happily jumped back in my car, turned up the Strokes on the radio and drove home.

I gave Denny a back pack. He stuffed it full of new goodies and reorganized his old belongings. With the pack over his shoulder and another bag at his side, he trudged into the frozen woods. In an instant, he disappeared, blending into the black tree trunks that stood guard.