A Poem for Downtown Wheeling
Editor, News-Register: The hills and cliffs still bear the scars of where the Ohio once slashed at them. It is at the site of this attempted murder that the city rests, still asleep in its work clothes the crumbs of weathered roads and broken curbs littering its chest. Faded brick alleyways seep between buildings like old capillaries The Capitol Theatre wears the evening like a tux Old leather volumes ferment silently in a bookstore In bars, the carousing liturgy of stories being told some legend, some folklore. From the restaurant on the corner of Market and ...