Exodus Genesis Exodus

Swallows ascend in plumes of smoke
their plumage grips smut
for no oil permits its resistance
they permeate nonesuch
from forth their suits no sweat
mere silt-colored sweaters

on the antennae when they meet
They make the sign of a t
then flee in the form of a flying v

the Tenant inside underneath
watches TV
does not see electricity does not
pay to view Sojourners’
Exodus Genesis Exodus

inside and under tenement rock
sensory membranes are battered lawn grass
to breathe here means to go blind
to adjust reception means to permit
transmission of pidgin language

no words just hunger no gestures
no songs but wings
mimicking the veins of the city
all that is leaving for far too many
not bombs but falling birds

it’s not You
rather how you will be
forgotten in beds of soil you turn
rich and rotten

every Sorry Thank you Please
erased of all our memories
anonymous feathers
formalities for stuffing our pillows
and we are all beaten cases
how we tried to find our fill
never meant by sense or will
for often said without a clue
what was meant by
how are you

Published by Lia Yaranon Hall

My name is Lalla. I was a 14th century poet in Kashmir and worshipped Lord Siva. I died and fell from an evergreen tree in the Pacific Northwest (47° 36? 36? N, 122° 19? 48? W). My Lolo found me in an ivy patch. I spent most of my formative years on the coast of the South China Sea spearing fish until I became a "vegetarian" (but we didn't call ourselves that in those days). Shortly after vowing ahimsa, I moved to New York, unironically, under the guise of "poet" so that I could perform aerial stunts and acrobatics for an underground circus called the.

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