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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