National Flags

bankers     in love with an apple
losing their hats to a breeze on the fortieth floor of their bald spots
still     not a hard time

anacondas     back street shoe leather
volcanic pebbles gathered around a fire hydrant of suspense
filming an elbow that’s in flames

traffic passes over the roof like pachyderms in a circus tent
smoke is a natural condition of the lungs
smog one of the heart
every curse i curse i curse for you o city of my dreams
i dream you in my sleep
i’ve got you that memorized
otherwise you’d be a vacant lot for me

	the origin of national flags
	in the feet of small flightless birds
	performing the same urban ritual five days a week

	swimming tar beach
	my don’t the clouds look relaxed today
	must be doing the backstroke

sidewalks are the graveyards of centuries of footprints
generations of elephants all out for the same slice of pie
subway tubes evolved in your lungs even in summer rush hour

	old comic book
	half a century later
	the latter-day key
	the latter-day bus
	they’re all still out there waving
	cheering in a language we both speak

from Yew Nork (2014)