Issue 9: The Darkest Apartment in Alphabet City

Kevin Dyer
Insofar as the light finds
its way fragmented,
the brick walls retain
the thin welt
of the days
that in theory, arrive.
In the square the guide
on the walking tour says
this is the place where once
when he means
time is gauged
in terms of erosion,
the cracking monuments
in mid-air,
the archives of the heart
lodged in a building no longer there.
In the story of the bird
trapped in a bright kitchen
all that is utterable
is the sound of impact—
a brief thud
and a new vision
of a world through glass
and the blur thereafter
deeply grafted.
An accidental clarity,
like the day I shot the background
with you walking up Christopher Street,
as though you lived there,
or were leaving.
Kevin Dyer recently returned from a year or so in Myanmar. Traffic, choked rivers. People all over. Also spent time in other parts pf SE Asia and the Middle East. Other work in Visions International, Denver Quarterly, Elephant Journal, Cortland Review, and Josephine Quarterly.