How much death works, No one knows what a long Day he puts in. The little Wife always alone Ironing death’s laundry.

Where the path to the lake twists… A puff of dust, the kind bare feet… Is what I saw in the dying light, Night swooping down everywhere els… A low branch heavy with leaves

Of the light in my room: Its mood swings, Dark-morning glooms, Summer ecstasies. Spider on the wall,

This last continent Still to be discovered. My hand is dreaming, is building Its ship. For crew it takes A pack of bones, for food

On the first page of my dreambook It’s always evening In an occupied country. Hour before the curfew. A small provincial city.

Green Buddhas On the fruit stand. We eat the smile And spit out the teeth.

And the one that’s got it in for y… Mister, that keeps taunting you In an old man’s morning wheeze Every time you so much as glance a… Or blurt something in your defense…

Here come my night thoughts On crutches, Returning from studying the heaven… What they thought about Stayed the same,

Great are the Hittites. Their ears have mice and mice have… Their dogs bury themselves and lea… To guard the house. A single weed… Until the spiderwebs spread over t…

I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month a crippled old man came to play

In my great grandmother’s time, All one needed was a broom To get to see places And give the geese a chase in the… •

It seemed the kind of life we want… Wild strawberries and cream in the… Sunlight in every room. The two of us walking by the sea n… Some evenings, however, we found o…

The truth is dark under your eyeli… What are you going to do about it? The birds are silent; there’s no o… All day long you’ll squint at the… When the wind blows you’ll shiver…

O crows circling over my head and… I admit to being, at times, Suddenly, and without the slightes… Exceedingly happy. On a morning otherwise sunless,