What Titanic floods came to carve
the massive canyons of New York
clasped on its ancient, sturdy rocks?
What force let the sea surge so close
and still deeper into its abrased land?
There, the city’s skyscrapers pile on
litanies of new towering Babylons.
Or is it perhaps Babyl, Babel, Babilu,
or even—in its later Turkic form—
another hut of Baba Yaga’s twirling
on some chicken’s leg—much ready
and waiting for a hero or a lass to hop?
Otherwise, the earthly city’s spiky teeth
will go on trying to bite the Heavens’ ass.
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