Art, Life, Photography, Poetry, Stories from the Art, Writing NYC Fridge Poetry / As if peering out that 9th floor window to the NYC traffic below, I see those magnetic words bunched, wandering, gravitating…. north, south, east, west…. Like NYC cars, the words move with purpose. Noisily. Quietly. Always with purpose. read more You May Also Like Life, This Morning….. Our First Art Party is in the Books: Feedback + Lessons Learned What do you make?