After the red leaf and the gold ha… Brought down by the wind, then by… Bruised and discolored, when Octo… Goes blue to guttering in the cusp… Sinks deeper into silence, darker…

Among the high-branching, leafless… Above the roof-peaks of the town, Snowflakes unnumberably come down. I watched out of the attic window The laced sway of family trees,

You see them vanish in their speed… The many people hastening through… And wonder what they would have do… This time of time speed distance,… Of molecules hastened by what risi…

Who can remember back to the first… The greatest ones, greater even th… No one has remembered that far bac… Or now considers, among the artifa… And bones and cantilevered inferen…

The cursive crawl, the squared-off… these by themselves delight, even… a meaning, in a foreign language,… Chinese, for instance, or when ska… all day across the lake, scoring t…

Before you can learn the trees, yo… The language of the trees. That’s… Out of a book, which now you think… Is one of the transformations of a… The words themselves are a delight…

A door sunk in a hillside, with a… thick as the boy’€™s arm, and behi… the walls of ice, melting a blue,… an air of cedar branches, sawdust,… decaying seasons keeping from deca…

Two universes mosey down the stree… Connected by love and a leash and… Mostly I look at lamplight throug… While he mooches along with tail u… Getting a secret knowledge through…

It is admittedly difficult for a w… Nation to mourn and be seen to do… It can be done, the silvery platit… Were waiting in their silos for ju… An emergent occasion, cards of sym…

Each house had its ghost. Graves… The dead lived in him by his gray… He was, by their constraint upon h… Orpheus of all the lonesome, spent His evenings charting out a privat…

This morning we shall spend a few… Upon the study of symbolism, which… To the nature of money. I show yo… Icons and cryptograms are written… The nickel: one side shows a hunch…

Here at the Super Duper, in a gla… Supplied by a rill of cold fresh w… Running down a glass washboard at… And siphoned off at the other, and… Perpetually renewed, a herd of lob…

By the dry road the fathers cough… This is their room. They are the… That bloody sun upon the southern… And crushed the armored beetle to… The father’s skin is seamed and dr…

Late in November, on a single nig… Not even near to freezing, the gin… That stand along the walk dropp al… In one consent, and neither to rai… But as though to time alone: the g…

Innocence? In a sense. In no sense! Was that it? Was that it?