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the collective studio, Russell Industrial
Center, Detroit, MI:
TURMOIL
a poem by Mohamad
Bazzi
A passing bus
exhales winter breaths
as it gently roars by
the yellow industrial
air of detroit
drugs me a moment,
to nap on my open book
in the Public Library
exiled in my own exile,
this place has become a monestary
of professional frowners
their common language is the frown
denounced
I steal my tears
from the dark gears
of the city,
wet and weary
and run
the wind gives me a ride
on her wild blue wings
past all the classrooms
down the hall, turn left at the moon
and I run
to collect and conceal what remains
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