it’s quiet in the noisy market
as purple kholrabi scream
hot malaysian cashews
chatter with the old
tiny women over
locally grown 
sour cherries
volunteers groan
and shave ice blocks
out the highway moaning
with the muffled shade made
in the noise of the quiet market

look
between the cobblestones
into the ancient earth
of the seaport

find there
the ghosts of new york

hear
water through the broken ships
anchoring the rotting piers
peck slip and coientes

find there
the bones of new york

smell
drifting airs sweet sour
salt spicy bitter
conjuring the past today

find there
the breath of new york

feel
destruction rumbling construction
devolving evolving mains tunnels
hovels towers bridges

find there
the blood of new york

taste
the masses strangers known
intimately in the shared glimpse
of the Endless across the tracks

find there
the dreams of new york

look
between the cobblestones
into the ancient earth
of the seaport

find there
the ghosts of new york

hear
water through the broken ships
anchoring the rotting piers
peck slip and coientes

find there
the bones of new york

taste
drifting icy airs sweet
sour salt spicy bitter
conjuring the past today

find there
the breath of new york

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