‘Who am I?’ The Princess asked the breeze. She asked the coloured waters, she asked the jewelled sky. She leant against the tree trunks, and sought her answers there. All she saw was beauty, all she saw was life though she didn’t recognize it so.
Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia, 2008 In mottled cotton, shambling toe-heel, toe-heel,Bass-ackwardsWith Zen concentration and breathing down the neck Of the square’sPath, sinking under the shards of bruised..