Ray Hsu

District 2


The cafeterias. The power

of twentieth-century lights.


The children eventually leave

well enough alone. In the soil


their descendants wait.

dinosaurs. Unlike standard blue skies night

remains alarming. A clue from far away. An

arc embracing ourthinrectangles.Inour†††††††††††††††††† Origins

beginning we belonged


then we wind down.Westayunderground

dustcaked. We take our wallet out. Wait at a

corner. Wager the roadsarebad.Turnus

down.††† Make††† good††† livings.†††† No†† more

confusion. We eatwhat weplease.Wheat.††††††††††††††† Modernity

Please.†† Weloosen ourgrip.†† Someclear.

Some†† twitch.†† The†† worse†† offlack.††† The

greatesthangback anddisinfect.We fall


asleep under heavy cloth.The shoreison

our way, ourmindedge.Thewatercools

blood. The skin thickens. Our bodies darken

as night lengthens. We are


I saw what must have been

a dozen eyes, each surrounded

by its own mouth,

not yet formed but already

clamoring. A bloody loyalty

to something

split in two,

a veining fork,

hungry all the way up

past the neck

to the interior. Someone

is coming back, it says.

Birdís Eye

Some years pass,

a quiet extended

where notes should be.


Whomever it brings you to,

it will leave you there.

Is it to alleviate the split


trunk that governs you?

It stands so still you can measure

your lengths and borders.

[step back to issue 3]