My country occurred to me shot through by a river
bent as a sludge-pipe and punctuated by chimneys
by naked trees on the bay islands of this new city
new affect shoddy new arches to touch.
Out of the grim and antic north
I'm greeting you America where you lie on your broad belly
suddenly coming upon new hills
stackhouses for autos an unbearable language familiar
riddled with new slang and angers I can't decipher
slung low under the billboards new vines further along in autumn
than home America I can't believe I too am party to this
rude guile of cities that gather your restless in
like cloths bunched at the corners and mottled with comers-on
if once any man was impelled by the stars
one whiff of your broad flank
puffed-up with traffic cured it America
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