Paul Lojeski: Once after a hurricane blew power for a week I walked the darkened aisles of a supermarket kept open by loud growling generators, overwhelmed by a fear I’d never felt before.
Paul Lojeski: August blazing across Boston. Working that factory, a furnace inside, sweating sheet metal walls. Blacks and Cubans and Puerto Ricans and two long-haired white boys banging iron, wielding flame.
Paul Lojeski: The good man’s smile lit up the ballroom like a full moon over a Caribbean Sea.
Paul Lojeski: Bombs blasting hospitals shredding babies and doctors the big dog gargoyle creeping to Helicopter One, waving at the cameras, smiling that bloody grin of menace and murder
Paul Lojeski: He woke, feeling nature pushing down on him, demanding attention, requiring recognition. Terminators