New York, today, was bestiary, estuary, salt and fresh,
profusely animal, unblessed, all unexonerated flesh
and untoward flush of river water, blaming and untamed
and bound for slaughter in the Fall. The Fall is resolutely
named – it heralds New York’s imminent innumerable ends
of enemies and friends, its immanent indifference to either:
New York, today, with these or those or them or they,
has had its underhanded way and will, to many but noteverybody’s sorrow, have its overwhelming way tomorrow.