wealth inequality

footstep on the black library floor

oil spill on the sixth stacks

bump your head on the book racks

alphabets dancing like poor

candle stick bricks with broken wicks

your poet wine was made of meth

of teeth rimmed with red rust

rain falling on the station of body

i must break myself on metallic hands

of poet pieces of pollution and paper

passed out woke up at the foot

of the library stairs  where did you go?

—January 2022, Stanford, CA