The East Village
Chris McCreary
from The Exiles
Fled his land and language and cast her eyes
westward. Set sail wearing grave threads
of mourning and passed the nights
by renaming the brightest stars.
Saw cities of apothecaries, cities of brothels
and cobblers, of discontent and ennui,
all this seeming doubly strange through
a strange language in which she could not pray.
[...]
Port-side cities of rivers, tributaries and estuaries,
land-locked cities of crossroads, boulevards,
and thoroughfares where panhandlers
are fended off with parasols, makeshift asylums
housed in public squares, sweat shops
disguised as wedding chapels, cemeteries
doubling as schoolyards, courtroom roofs
as launching pads for hot air balloons.
[...]
Volume Thirteen Index
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