G  O  R  G  E     A  N  D     R  U  S  H
Tapa notebook, Oct 2007.



22/10/07:  Mexico City


We gather as seabirds
rank on rank
eyes sharp with weather.
To wheel and caw, to spit
his name on the cobbles.
Our skin the brown dirt of
campesino furrows, the devil
covering our privates

I am camping out
in the ruins of sleep,
plaza of the immortals, where
the living and the dead
meet in spirit. I dreamt
of your angel again Topper,
her sadness a foretelling,
an almanac of the four hundred
points of faith. My teeth
are miniature adults
weeping.

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The 400 Pueblos



Brian Flaherty