Little Inhabitants The poet wakes in the middle of the night to find that his room, Barely enough for his lean body, is a megacity for the little Inhabitants. Roaches are going and coming, each one with A different sense of urgency, some slow as clumps of dew, Others civil servants in love with the …
The elders welcomed me as if Moses himself had descended from the mountain as in the holy books, except, instead of tablets of stone, I carried a battered laptop tucked under my arm.
