Racist Graffiti

Racist graffiti on the metro posters

clouds, a cold wind

from no earthly direction—

but a low pollen count

a deep breath—

the beauty of the interior

is complete—

and it’s partly made of unease

and foreign cops in suits

whose faces never change

Their palace of justice

just sits there by the river

under the curdling clouds

and who cares?

Everyone’s watching

the swallows

thread the tip of a dome

A Comic Book About Shackleton

Cold wind suddenly

across the city

and crying at the end

of a comic book about Shackleton

across the sea

it is exactly the same

cigarette smoke turning corners

a woman in a white dress

no thanks

and coughing

the crossroads of the season

and an old man on a bicycle

slowly rolling by

a drill on stone

and a teacher

speaking French

to kids who don’t

on the 2nd floor

is a cloudy sound

Poem in the Manner of Morgan Parker

What do you think is wrong

with this lady on the F train

trying to sit down every time

we come to a stop she seems fine

maybe lazy no one really

wants to stand or is it spiritual

her unease I think yes whatever

is the soul’s unease is she and I

look down from a great height

like Radiohead looks down on us

something inside me wants to burst

out and preside and bang a gavel

something inside me also is made

of wine an ocean of wine

on which an even smaller part of me sails