Bővebb ismertető
WAR
Red Sun
over Echo Park
orbiting
an unheard-of botany of disfigured statues sprung never far from the twig.
Underneath this fig leaf my mother became an atheist.
A persimmon's throw from Black Monday
were the clack of the trolleys
the stomp of the Lindy
the crackle of zootsuiters spindling reefers
the pixilated palms
the plump Tfemple
& you
made in the image of banana curls, leviathan dimples & empires hemmed at the Veneris. You
in the baked brick ice box the one room
where you lived your whole life