MONG-LAN
O New York!
ghosts of America roam
land of fast food
joints defined by movement
herds of taxi cabs apartments too expensive to rent
trained hands typing digital lives
commotion rust-shriek & blur of subway trains
O New York! until my legs detect a din i walk
(signs call me back)
shoes snivel eyes a pocket
wrinkled youth palsied
elephantine ankles cross-eyed ditty
a tic in the face is a chronicle of past grievings
a cancerous cell love uncaved
i write into this handbook of daytime things tantrums & baby paraphernalia
claiming words which gather time
answering life i sit & stare into cracks stars of fate
i visit you
across the sea of
disease between us
let us be stricken
with poems