World Trade Center at Lunchtime on a Weekday

a breeze cools me
sun-blind before
a sparkling fountain
luster of heavy power
this plaza, impact crater
of money
white shirts, student backpacks
the rustle of sandwich papers
and the fountain.
dirty pigeons scavenge,
feathers musty in the sun.
a bronze ball of involving might
rivets this place
to the earth

Tompkins Square, July 12, 1997

Old splashed shadows,
Feathers, on asphalt, matted
Where pigeons went
Hint of accidents and delis
Another drumbeat Sunday
With plastic bags and newsprint
Forgotten ruins of food
Archaeology for flies
And tiny birds
Red lizard feet
Of pecking pigeons
Some, spurned males
All ruffled feathers
And cooing persistence
Admirable, absurd

A sneaky squirrel scoots
Through the bushes