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Poetry by Lynn Strongin
'Sonata #4 Adagio, JS Bach'
Music by Suchoon Mo
'Laughter in the Holy America, Sandwich Bag' by Daniel Y. Harris

Fernwood, Burnside, Fairfield

'Laughter in the Holy America, Sandwich Bag'
Daniel Y. Harris

You go from age-to-age station:
nails & feathers: burnt wing-tailings.
Chinese groceries at corners

save the situation.
Fernwood District.

Signing out & in. Not enough to make a living:
Climbing stairs
looking over Burnside a wide-angle like an angel.

From the bus stop
with its municipal
maps, unreadable pastels of the city

like drawers in a magical box.
Like pop-up cards:
box cars rust-orange to ocean-green ancient iron locks.

Making you forget the top of the news:
African child thrown away found in garbage can
where a dog gnawed the face off him.

Unbearable headlines begin to ignite like a Preservation Brass Band
as though you could burn the deed:
Check out. Kick the bucket? The only alternative to reading heinous crimes is blindsighting.

Consider that split-second
when tailings slough off, feathers, nails, walls peeling of paint.
You ride the bus above city's rim. Fairfield

the thing itself            a Body-Smile
like that morning you bought new green shoes
At the first station of dream, you danced in them

slipping ski-pole in one hand
surmounting ice:
size of the box car in the second dream

its burnt-orange, lime green
made it part of a dream train:
tonnage in this incarnation morphed into feathers
           sailing you
           into the Sweet Hereafter            the Great Beyond.

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last update: November 19, 2008