Last night in the fields I lay down in the darkness to think about death, but instead I fell asleep,

I know someone who kisses the way a flower opens, but more rapidly. Flowers are sweet. They have short, beatific lives. They offer much pleasure. There is

Don’t bother me. I’ve just been born. The butterfly’s loping flight carries it through the country of…

In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way

Needing one, I invented her— the great-great-aunt dark as hicko… called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting… or The-Beauty-of-the-Night. Dear aunt, I’d call into the leav…

There is, all around us, this country of original fire. You know what I mean. The sky, after all, stops at nothi…

Is the soul solid, like iron? Or is it tender and breakable, lik… the wings of a moth in the beak of… Who has it, and who doesn’t? I keep looking around me.

The river Of my childhood, That tumbled Down a passage of rocks And cut-work ferns,

Not quite four a.m., when the rapt… strikes me from sleep, and I rise from the comfortable bed and go to another room, where my books ar… in their neat and colorful rows. H…

centerYou are standing at the edge… at twilight when something begins to sing, like a waterfall pouring down

In winter all the singing is in the tops of the trees where the wind-bird with its white eyes

I’d seen their hoofprints in the deep needles and knew they ended the long night under the pines, walking

The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, shoulders, and all the rest

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the… to buy me, and snaps the purse shu… when death comes

At Blackwater Pond the tossed wat… after a night of rain. I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like stone, leaves, fire. It falls…