Linden and Broadway

This corner, Linden and Broadway, was one of the hardest-hit areas during the Blackout of ‘77, a time where the threat of fire was so common, residents from the era remember having to sleep with shoes on. While the Bronx famously burned, Bushwick was home to more arson than any other neighborhood in New York City. A mixture of urban decay, administrative disinvestment and negligence, and white flight, the fires were symbolic of the deep-rooted systemic issues that plagued the neighborhood.

The VIM you see on this block has stood the test of time and been around since before the fires, providing affordable kicks - cuz Payless shoes were not poppin, according to the Bushwick youth.

When They Left

By Shy Richardson

March came

with showers,

and storm drains

and umbrellas fractured in 

all of their useful parts.


March came

like shock and awe,

screaming.

The jilt of life 

the lesson of leaving

the reminder that 

nothing thrives

in toxic earth.


March came 

and brought the lonely.

With fear and anxiety

And hate speech 

news broadcasting panic 

Nursing homes

Empty shelves 

and hunger pains

and cancelled birthdays

and virtual funerals.

 

March came

and let us know

that the hood is a flower bed,

no matter who stays

or leaves wilting, 

falling from branches

and trees.

Something else will

grow in its place


March came

to remind us

the bone it takes 

to bloom,

to show us the power

in a pistil

who dares still stretch toward

the sun. 


March came

and it was hard to breathe

watery lungs and pollen and sneeze

and dirty looks and crumpled masks

and anti-facts crying about 

impinged freedoms.


March came 

caution tape

and plastic wrap 

and bleach and 

Almost a return to the

rotating window 

and

a newly sanitized

On how to be human.


March came 

And we had to figure out

How to push through 

Like when it was burning brick

And smoke plumes

And sirens 

And sputtering fire hydrants

And anxiety and hate crime

And expressways 

And exits.


April came

and They left

again


and reminded us

why we write poems

about the fragrance of flowers.

It reminded us  

what mourning was like

before we had 

funeral parlors

to sanctify our grief.

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