tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797875972831999598.post5948646050580302569..comments2023-11-22T04:27:07.521-06:00Comments on glen brown: Two Poems by Fred Vossgbrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13435049339082622611noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797875972831999598.post-51702246190049810752015-12-04T20:08:18.592-06:002015-12-04T20:08:18.592-06:00In 1964 I too stood in a filthy factory on a pitte...In 1964 I too stood in a filthy factory on a pitted concrete floor working in airless heat until the metal wall/door was partially opened to an even more intense heat and sun that exchanged one form of physical torment for another. The factory was an illegal one that tapped into electricity and showed no sign of ownership or title. We were paid in cash at the end of each day. We knew that one day we would show up when the factory inside the building would be stripped and gone. Yet the Chicago downtown skyline could be seen in the distance. I fully understood and lived "we go without glasses and teeth and hope of anything" and felt the throbbing despair of anticipation of even worse times. I, however, was fortunate to be between my freshman and sophomore year of college on a real scholarship that paid for my tuition and books. As I lived in my grandparents' attic for free, I had to pay for everything else such as socks, underwear, meals aside from supper, etc. Free lodging and free food once a day. A single pair of shoes with holes in the soles made for pain whether walking or standing. But... I knew I was fortunate because I knew I had a chance to escape. Hope. None of the other men of all ages had that sense of hope, but they worked on and on grasping at the unlikely possibility that their children might escape the cycle of ignorance, violence, alcohol and poverty. In 2015 America, that hope of a hope is gone.Ken Previtihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10513924091013990654noreply@blogger.com