Pond snipe, bleached pine, rue wee… I walk by sedge and brown river ro… to where the old lake boats went d… All the ships are gone, the gray w… in upon itself. Even the channel’s

Since I don’t know who will be re… this or even if it will be read, I… invent someone on the other end of eternity, a distant cousin labo… under the same faint stars I labor…

Something has fallen wordlessly and holds still on the black drive… You find it, like a jewel, among the empty bottles and cans where the dogs toppled the garbage…

If the shoe fell from the other fo… who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and it was no dream? If your life ended the way a book ends

Out of burlap sacks, out of bearin… Out of black bean and wet slate br… Out of the acids of rage, the cand… Out of creosote, gasoline, drive s… They Lion grow.

This poem has a door, a locked doo… and curtains drawn against the day… but at night the lights come on, o… in each room, and the neighbors sw… they hear music and the sound of d…

Los Angeles hums a little tune— trucks down the coast road for Monday Market

Last night, again, I dreamed my children were back at home, small boys huddled in their separa… and I went from one to the other listening to their breathing —regu…

The magpie in the Joshua tree Has come to rest. Darkness collec… And what I cannot hear or see, Broken limbs, the curious bird, Become in darkness darkness too.

“I’ve been where it hurts.” the K… He becomes Sierra Kid I passed Slimgullion, Morgan Min… Camp Seco, and the rotting Lode. Dark walls of sugar pine —,

Beaten like an old hound Whimpering by the stove, I complicate the pain That smarts with promised love. The oilstove falls, the rain,

He made a line on the blackboard, one bold stroke from right to left diagonally downward and stood back to ask, looking as always at no on… in particular, “What have I done?…

He tells me in Bangkok he’s robbe… Because he’s white; in London bec… In Barcelona, Jew; in Paris, Ara… Everywhere and at all times, and h… He holds up seven thick little fin…

A good man is seized by the police and spirited away. Months later someone brags that he shot him onc… through the back of the head with a Walther 7.65, and his life

This harpie with dry red curls talked openly of her husband, his impotence, his death, the deat… of her lover, the birth and death of her own beauty. She stared