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	<title>Poems &#8211; Alyssa A. Lappen</title>
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		<title>Blake Street Meets 33rd</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/10/05/blake-street-meets-33rd/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=blake-street-meets-33rd</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Oct 2001 01:04:36 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[Gary Binowski and Vivian Barrett live 35 years beyond my sight, past hope of recovery, the boy bouncing heel-to-toe to school down Blake Street, the other sulkily switching her broom of waist-length auburn hair, explaining yet again why she&#8217;s late. And yet I revisit fifth grade, the class of Evelyn Maze, who gave conviction &#8212; &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/10/05/blake-street-meets-33rd/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Blake Street Meets 33rd</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>The Arrival</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/10/05/the-arrival/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=the-arrival</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Oct 2001 00:59:26 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[That Sunday, a sharp sun exposed otherwise unnotable, the Colts. They drew their footman from his weekly rest, in crisp September air, took their carriage downtown from an 89th Street brownstone, to watch an afternoon&#8217;s entertainment &#8212; foreigners, arriving from Ellis Island. The Colts, gowned in ivory and gold, ladies&#8217; feathered hats bobbing in the &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/10/05/the-arrival/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">The Arrival</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>Paper, Smoke and Ash</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/09/11/paper-smoke-and-ash/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=paper-smoke-and-ash</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Sep 2001 23:59:42 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Poems]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[The huge band of black smoke broadens Against an azure sky, how limitless grief. No numbers yet number the dead, not ten- Or thirty thousand, the still uncounted souls Buried in a tangle of steel, a sea of glass, shoes, Pens and ash. Whose papers &#8212; the pieces of lives &#8212; Flutter in the wind, &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/09/11/paper-smoke-and-ash/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Paper, Smoke and Ash</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>For Chris</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/07/01/for-chris/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=for-chris</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Jul 2001 17:15:15 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[It is odd, how years beyond your death, I remain loyal. Now when I think of our last Goodbye &#8212; the hug that tempered your arms With steel despite your failing health &#8212; It renews my sense of goodness in you, Friendship that could outlast a thousand wars. How I loved you Chris, in a &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/07/01/for-chris/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">For Chris</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>Passion For A Friend</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/04/01/passion-for-a-friend/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=passion-for-a-friend</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Apr 2001 17:20:28 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Poems]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[for Christopher Nasri Khattar, 1951-1992 By Alyssa A. Lappen It&#8217;s late. Life has blown so quickly by, A gust of desert wind, a storm, puffed up In moments, gone, the air just as suddenly clear. But for the dune that was standing there, The landscape has not changed. That mound Made the shade where poets &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2001/04/01/passion-for-a-friend/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Passion For A Friend</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>Magic, Mourning</title>
		<link>https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2000/12/22/magic-mourning/?utm_source=rss&#038;utm_medium=rss&#038;utm_campaign=magic-mourning</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alyssa A. Lappen]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Dec 2000 17:08:10 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Poems]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[for H.H.By Alyssa A. Lappen Magic, she said it was magic whenhis soul escaped the body, which soongrew hard, cold. He was gone, &#8220;Like that.&#8221;She expects him back, endlessly. &#8220;He&#8217;s not here, but where did he go?&#8221; She asks.As if I could answer. Nowhere, somewhereshe can&#8217;t see. She woke the kids to sharetheir father&#8217;s end. &#8230; <a href="https://www.alyssaalappen.org/2000/12/22/magic-mourning/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">Magic, Mourning</span></a>]]></description>
		
		
		
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