The River Cuts A Channel
People with money but no fortune
or stomach for the life of an albatross,
watch him soar on self-made wings,
fetch the dingy redness
of morning's first catch with
a long necked bottle
he calls the captain
[7]
Chinatown-I
As they are crawling up to you
think of Angor Wat
the sweating walls
cold in stone
steam broiling in the jungle
or, that most ancient of men,
the Chinese beggar
the thin rinds of his skin
like scented apples or
kimonos slipped off to dry
[9]