Tim Yu

How to Control a Runaway Camel

Take a hard right at the
notepad, making
sure not to tear the stroke.
It’s typical for us not to need
another hero in this time of ducks.
So you can take it two
by two, each
summered waist a
leaning eye. Still it lacks
certain graces of expression
and love, nose flaring
at the slightest touch.


White Plaza

This summer chamber
is a similarity drawn
to scale: shorts and sandals
lined up the lawn.
The bike-back plastic
crate holds nothing
of consequence, air
moving through its holes.
Everything’s beige
on the bottom,
red-topped


Waiting Room (3)

I leaned against it. They
do ticket—shape
of drinking water, dyed
table-brown.
The square bends outward
in the lampshade. It’s already
one hour in stainless steel.
Blue foil behind the aquarium
and a blonding eye. This
clever reception’s green
inside warm gel.


The City at the End of the Rainbow

learns by doing, caught off-
guard in the drought.
Haven’t you ever wondered why
hair curls in different directions, not
growing down when it could?
The odd wall or tie-down
can’t hold back the oil
tanker that’s the first thing
through the Golden Gate,
followed by mail trucks and all
manner of people, on foot or ashore


We Would Like to Acquire

what’s under the sock-
puppet drive-by, the
jogging dog or
sighing mom.
Everyone’s cranky
or gone. We’ll corner
the market on flip-flops
and halter tops
and sell ice skates
at the lemonade stand.