Street Market - by
Here, under the awning of cotton,
/ Tomatoes are heaped in a flare
/ Of glossy red beauty, and rotten
/ Sick-sweet smells of fruit fill…
markets
The Bargain - by
The river in January is fast and high.
/ You and I
/ are off to the Barrows.
/ Gathering police-horses twitch and fret
/ at the Tron…
My First Bawbee - by
O! nane, I trew, on a’ the yirth
/ Was happier than me,
/ When in my wee…
Flute Player - by
Where is the real bazaar?
/ I want to buy an eyeful of kindness.
/ I want to dress my soul in hyperbole.
/ There’s a…
In Macedonian Markets - by
After Pradech
/
/ The market had everything:
/ that Macedonian autumn
/ earth talked through mothers
/ standing over fruit
/
/ cooling it with water
/ for the eyes of the customers,
/ caressing…
Socks - by
The seller of socks
/ on Sulaiman Basha Street pavement
/ takes such care of that black one
/ she puts it in the shade
/ away from…
Selling Watermelons - by
Moscow is milling with watermelons.
/ Everything breathes a boundless freedom.
/ And it blows with unbridled fierceness
/ from the breathless melonvendors.
/
/ Stalls. Din. Girls’ headscarves.
/ They…
Hamnavoe Market - by
They drove to the Market with ringing pockets.
/
/ Folster found a girl
/ Who put wounds on his face and throat,
/ Small and…