That dog with daisies for eyes who flashes forth flame of his very self at every ba… is the Dog of Art. Worked in wool, his blind eyes

The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer. The wind blowing, the leaves shivering in the sun,

Those groans men use passing a woman on the street or on the steps of the subway to tell her she is a female and their flesh knows it,

“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

To lie back under the tallest oldest trees. How far the stems rise, rise before ribs of shelter open!

A night that cuts between you and… and you and you and you and me: jostles us apart, a man el… through a crowd. We won’t look for each other, either–

The cat is eating the roses: that’s the way he is. Don’t stop him, don’t stop the world going round, that’s the way things are.

"The World is not something to look at, it is something to be in.… Mark Rudman I look and look. Looking’s a way of being: one beco…

As the stores close, a winter ligh… opens air to iris blue, glint of frost through the smoke grains of mica, salt of the sidewa… As the buildings close, released a…

My wedding-ring lies in a basket as if at the bottom of a well. Nothing will come to fish it back… and onto my finger again.        &nb sp;       &nbs…

The ache of marriage: thigh and tongue, beloved, are heavy with it, it throbs in the teeth We look for communion

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 tree of knowledge was the tree… That’s why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That fruit was meant to be dried and milled t… for use a pinch at a time, a condi…