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

The truth of the lie of time.

It is not the first breath
That has passed
Not a tide but a swell.

It is not the last breath
That is tomorrow
Mystery solved without choice.

It is the breath breathing now
That is meaning enough
Or not.

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