How long must I be a wind
against my long-cheated
sea?
Into an overwhelmed
thing an unknown home has sunk
I have noted the bodies, right
and correct as rights
I have located the hands,
correct as rights
Enjoining like a right the
good life-blows, said by a wrong
reporter, have belonged
The right under the steering-wheel, its interchanges
have been quiet
(attributed to “Del Ray Cross” in Issue 1,
“a 3,785-page document featuring almost
as many poets....The poems were produced
by a poem generator known as Erika, or
Erica T. Carter.”)
