Reuben Jackson Shares a Poem from his Upcoming Collection Like the city itself, the Northwest Washington, D.C. neighborhood in which I was raised has changed radically, and yet it has not. There is a certain way in which the streets -and the row brick houses- still provide context, and deep, deep, memory. The other day, I took a walk on my block and found myself standing in front of the house in which the neighbor/friend we called "Little Man" was raised. He kept the front porch company. And he was one of the saddest people I have ever met. He killed himself when he was 7. This poem is a … [Read more...]




