Article: Dog days of summer.(Poem)

 
In the dog days of summer as muslin curls on its own heat 
And crickets cry in the black walnut tree 
 
The wind lifts up my life 
And sets it some distance from where it was. 
 
Still Marco Polo airport wore me out, 
I slept in a plastic chair, took the water taxi. 
 
Early, too early the voices of children 
Mimicking the clatter in the internet cafe. 
 
In Campo Santo Stefano in a place of black coffee 
Bordellos of verse, bony accolades of joy, 
 
St. Stephen stooped over a cross, 
A dog licking his heel, blood drops from a sign 
 
By the church wall--Anarchia e Ordine-- 
The ...

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