JULY 10, 2026 POETRY The specter of imperialism AENEA KANAAN Groundcover contributor i don’t know about you, but genocides are a specter in my mind running in the background haunting me all the time my family wasn’t perfect, like most i knew strife what i didn’t have to contend with however, were daily bombs falling from the sky their detonators cowards who can't look their prey in the eye but through the lens of a drone yet they take millions of lives the bones keep piling up they’re rotting in the sky. but back at home, in the land where freedom rings you only see blue children of gaza, of congo, sudan, and sadly too many to name see only an ashy hue they can’t say the same as you; their lives are evasion, starvation, survival they make toys out of tank tires while yours are safe on plastic at the kindercare. see the irony there? the thought that doesn’t leave, the one that always lingers; are they not kids, just like yours? just like you were? kids should be kids, you say kids deserve to be kids, i’d say no matter the shade, from which land they came, from where they call home — they all want the same, to play and have fun to learn about their world to love! only theirs is staring down the barrel of a gun. despite it all... they darn those rose colored glasses i also wore to cope the roses have become their eyes, their blooming life lines because seeing the light keeps them alive. GROUNDCOVER NEWS 11 Reiki Entanglement Two hands almost touching. The space between them is not empty. Something moves. PEDRO CAMPOS Groundcover vendor No. 652 Not magic. Not mystery alone. Not something to sell. Just relation. Summer Breeze EMERI JADE BEY Groundcover vendor No. 660 Golden mornings spill like gold, Across the fields where laughter's told. Barefoot races through the grass, Watching slow white clouds drift past. Fireflies wake as daylight fades, Dancing through the twilight glades. Ice cream melts on smiling hands, Tiny castles crown the sands. Bicycles hum on winding streets, To the rhythm summer beats. Picnics spread beneath the trees, Carried there by gentle breeze. Skies are painted pink and blue, Every sunset fresh and new. Summer whispers, "Stay awhile," Wrapping every day in smiles. When autumn calls with cooler air, The memories remain to share— A season stitched with sun and play, Bright enough to light gray days. DUNBAR ARTISTS from page 9 stop by and take a look inside and talk to a few residents. I ran into an old friend who is an artist and lives at the Dunbar Towers, Andrew Patton. For the last two years he asked me to write an article featuring him and his art. We did an interview right there on the spot. Jones: What type of art do you do? Patton: I make designer clothes, paint pictures, I do tattoos, I do it all. Jones: How long have you been doing art? Patton: All my life. Jones: How do you like living at the Dunbar Towers? Patton: I've been unhoused for four years, I’m happy to have my own. Jones: What are your plans going forward while living at the Dunbar Towers? Patton: I plan to hold workshops here and collaborate with other artists who are my neighbors here. I saw another old friend named Joseph, who also grew up in this neighborhood. When asked how he likes living there, Joseph said, "It’s like being at home." TJ Rice is also a resident at Dunbar Towers. He is a friend of mine I met at the Sunday Artisan Market. The Artisan Market is an open-air artist-run bazaar in Kerrytown; TJ's been selling art there for eight years. Jones: What type of art do you do? TJ: I do abstract art, I’m the tie-dye guy. I take ordinary clothes and turn them into something different. Jones: How long have you been doing abstract art? TJ: Since I was six years old, and have been doing it ever since. Jones: What do you like most about the market? TJ: The good people I meet and it A calm mind can calm another. A steady heart can steady another. A word spoken with love changes the body. Breath slows. Tension softens. Hope returns. We affect each other continuously. Through touch. Through presence. Through silence. Perhaps healing is not energy transferred from one person to another. Perhaps healing is coherence. Two beings, one field. Not possession, but resonance. Not control, but alignment. Perhaps Reiki is simply this: Love becoming coherent. Namaste. I bow to the divine in you. provides income during April to the end of December. The Housing Commission is now working on the ground floor space for arts-related programming like workshops and a show gallery where artists can display and sell their art to the public, starting in September.
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