Zachary Suri

Actualizing Emerald City

Cities, I wonder what you must have looked like to my grandparents and my great greats when they steamed into Detroit from Hungary or New York Harbor from Russia and India

Where did the books go?

We read in school about suffering writers, about novels of suffering, stories from eternal gripers...

To my city in a coma along the Colorado

Down where the rocks end in green water, and the dusty paths finally terminate, the river washes away sticks...