Len Shindel Archives - Page 3 of 3 - Baltimore Post-Examiner

Coalescence

I peel leaf-colored clumps from my shovel. The clay carries memories, art class, wonders of the kiln, the rabbi’s head

The presidential scholar drips delicate fingers down his chin. With smooth, white, Ivy-infused certitude, he promises. Our institutions are strong.

Animals go loony when earthquakes and volcanoes gather their murderous forces. But dogs and owners sleep silently even as teachers

He sits like one of the park’s statues, knit cap pulled down to his eyes, blanket tugged up to his

In 1970, after dropping out of college in Washington, D.C., I moved to Baltimore where I lived in a row

The evening before, sands were a flea market. Bronze pen shells, necklaces of barnacles, Purple urchins, mottled purse crabs, spotted

Same guy, ponytail now gray, still strong, enduring as the word, scrappy. Larry the legend, busted ass, eight hours in

Even toward its center, the lake is growing shallow, farmland it had mercilessly flooded now fighting back, rebellion stoked by

In the distance, behind a sign advertising 3,300 acres for lease, A steel mill is meeting what free market economists