On historic Central Avenue near East 45th Street, the Vernon Branch Public Library looks like a jail—tall fences surround the circa 1915 building and a fenced walkway leads up to the doorway. Like the surrounding neighborhood, the library appears worn, beaten down.
We hear what you say
One Earth one Mother
One does not sell the Earth
Every road should come to this end:
A place called home.
When you don’t have one
the expanse of sky is your roof,
the vacant lots and sidewalks your living room.
Every city, your city.
As the new Poet Laureate of Los Angeles, I’m excited about National Poetry Month, which every year falls on April.