There! -- Swallowed It!

Welcome to where my keister sits.
There’s nowhere else for it than this.
If I were to spend the whole day
riding to and fro through all the holes
and conduits of New York City’s
neural network, I would not find one

whit more of what there is than
I’ve got now. This fat town – with its
degenerate renown and its regenerating
reapportionments of meaning –
all its leaning cranes and dangerous
remains and subway trains: I insist

that in one mote of its persisting,
listing air – there! – swallowed it! –
the whole shenanigan exists: a tiny
shard of hologram which holds
the whole and – breathed or tasted,
heard or seen – even in its smallest

part – invades the heart and
conquers. Every jot’s a Bonaparte –
makes you bonkers – always wins.
I am made of every one of its unwary
sins. Bit off more than I can chew.
Sit here long, and you will, too.


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