Poetry in the Age of Cinema

Excerpt from Poetry in the Age of Cinema

“…Lena got all leather for her motorbike, M. Ducati,
on his kind of night, avenger of clerks & cretins,
jewel thief because everything is stolen, champagne
sipped from a bota bag on her back, piped into her helmet,
pistol clipped to the back of one boot (this whole game
sometimes gets played that way, and she won’t go dead
for being stupid). Maybe a smash and grab. She knows
the city’s grid like a coroner loose in veins, alleyways…”