This is the year the old ones, the old great ones leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets,

The authentic! Shadows of it sweep past in dreams, one could sa… evoking the almost-silent ripping apart of giant sheets of cellophane. No.

After I had cut off my hands and grown new ones something my former hands had long… came and asked to be rocked. After my plucked out eyes

As swimmers dare to lie face to the sky and water bears them, as hawks rest upon air and air sustains them,

Pale, then enkindled, light advancing, emblazoning summits of palm and pine,

All others talked as if talk were a dance. Clodhopper I, with clumsy feet would break the gliding ring. Early I learned to

High, hollowed in green above the rocks of reason lies the crater lake whose ice the dreamer breaks to find a summer season.

O Eros, silently smiling one, hea… Let the shadow of thy wings brush me. Let thy presence enfold me, as if darkness

At sixteen I believed the moonlig… could change me if it would.           I moved my hea… on the pillow, even moved my bed as the moon slowly

When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abund… whispers. My presence made them

Hypocrite women, how seldom we spe… of our own doubts, while dubiously we mother man in his doubt! And if at Mill Valley perched in… the sweet rain drifting through we…

“I am a landscape,” he said. “a landscape and a person walking… There are daunting cliffs there, And plains glad in their way of brown monotony. But especially

Long after you have swung back away from me I think you are still with me: you come in close to the shore on the tide

The clouds as I see them, rising urgently, roseate in the mounting of somber power surging in evening haste over roofs and hermetic