Jack Galmitz

On an island
built for people to stand on
at an intersection
of speeding traffic
snow is piled high
from a plow that passed.
Someone tossed crumbs
of bread in advance
of the pigeons that assemble
in a mass.
In the snow they look
like stones moving this
way and that eating as quickly
as they can.
They touch each other
in this repast.

Jack Galmitz seems not to believe in bio notes.
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