alone on the shore ...
the sound of winter winds
playing a foghorn
enters the mist
of my immigrant past
Atlas Poetica, 29, 2017
A Room of My Own: Stock Ticker Tanka
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*Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words*, CCXCVI: "stock ticker "
a bruised girl’s hand
clutches a slice of bread
in pixels—
a stock ticker flashes past
...
