“Men have forgotten God, that’s why all this has happened.”
If I were to write poems
like a train on parallels to Siberia, past
onion domes, aspiring jazz stars,
in samizdat basements,
zigzags of proletarian taxis, busy streets,
lunches including inexpensive meats,
would I write every poem
that is forbidden to exist?
Snow falls beside abandoned cathedrals.