The worst thing about growing up poor in south philly was the welfare lady that came once a month She looked so strict and stern and she carried a large briefcase and when she sat down she would open it up and take out all kinds of papers and ask all kinds of questions. My mom always answered polite and never got fresh or impolite but sometimes I could see that my mom was ready to cry. the welfare lady would look around the three little rooms we lives in on the third floor and sake her head and act like she wanted to get out of here in a hurry for which I couldn’t blame her. cause I felt the same way myself.from Bloody and Living; Poems and Stories Black Spring Press
Ed Galing is the grand old man of the small press poetry scene. Now, 95, confined to a wheelchair, he writes every day, submits and has published dozens of collections of poems, cartoons and stories. He is he poet laureate of Hatsboro, PA, where he lives and writes.