My Oakland

   -Charles Legere

my Vietnam, that
reconstructed body

mine. Dreams—and

the sparrows in
my body, blooming in

a coffin, in my
heart, vines, una

lengua, rotting like a bottlebrush
from the inside

the ones I love
are they

My Oakland

   -Charles Legere

We call it handles. My
rise of Oakland

smoking—what stars,

blurry on
tinted windows, and

black cloud spreads
over—call it: Evergreen

Maersk, Sea-Land, Africa and
Wake Aves

dipping, pulling hard
against the wheel

call it Oakland Smoke

whipping swirls & loops.