Red Phalarope

Underground, under tons Of poured concrete (rusted iron Rods and wooden formmarks preserved Like pleistocene living, moving, at last Ended) miles of wires and Corridor-sized steam conduits, Under layered, tiered city Cubits, this unending business above, A subworker, conversing, says to me, ''Yesterday I chased a red Phalarope all the way Down Clearway Street.'' And I, too, come up from under To see a bird flying off Into infinite clear Space.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...