Three Poems

Santiago Afternoon

Very sad very sad, the tiles
on the floors are very sad
and the fountains. Fat cabs
with fat drivers leaning out.
Austere official
buildings stand in the sun
that drops at an angle.
The general sweat, Irish,
African, Latin, native,
more in it for the connoisseur
than in any wine cellar,
and all the sun’s vineyard anyway.
Facaded townhouses,
hands in their pockets.
Here are some people posed
...