quiet today as if the city stayed in bed for fear of rock missile

delivered from the corporation window

one man came and asked how popular is poetry

what else to say but that it was waning, lived only in private pockets made of tweed winter jackets from goodwill stuffed with tissues from the 1970s

another man came and said i am so confused

i am so confused why is there a russian church where there are no russian people

my people come from brighton beach to see this and to pray

well why is there a culture where there is no cultivation

i miss the city i never saw