picture came
yesterday, slipped as baitinto the open mouth
of my mailbox. the soft, fingered edgesof foreign stationery, his signature
lines & expressions unfurledlike cold st. lawrence currents
over my continental body.he is shrimping now, baiting hooks:
a warm cement pool gougedinto taichung's already choked lungs.
caught white & heavy-handedin between a day-glo green rice patty
& a dan bing stand. fisting a canof acidic chinese brew, he chats with locals.
he, in search of anything. westernhunger waning into a simple desire—
the capture of a creatureonly capable of swimming backwards,
away.
