#Americans
The horse beneath me seemed To know what course to steer Through the horror of snow I drea… And so I had no fear, Nor was I chilled to death
Where far in forest I am laid, In a place ringed around by stones… Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bon… For I am bodiless and bright,
In her room at the prow of the hou… Where light breaks, and the window… My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of…
for Rene Magritte The carpenter’s made a hole In the parlor floor, and I’m stan… Staring down into it now At four o’clock in the evening,
A woman I have never seen before Steps from the darkness of her tow… At just that crux of time when she… So beautiful that she or time must… What use to claim that as she tugs…
A Milkweed Anonymous as cherubs Over the crib of God, White seeds are floating Out of my burst pod.
Right down the shocked street with… siren-blast That sends all else skittering to… curb, Redness, brass, ladders and hats h…
The tall camels of the spirit Steer for their deserts, passing t… With the sawmill shrill of the loc… arid Sun. They are slow, proud,
One wading a Fall meadow finds on… The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like… On water; it glides So from the walker, it turns Dry grass to a lake, as the slight…
When you come, as you soon must, t… Mad-eyed from stating the obvious, Not proclaiming our fall but beggi… In God’s name to have self-pity, Spare us all word of the weapons,…
St. John tells how, at Cana’s wed… The water-pots poured wine in such… That by his sober count There were a hundred gallons at th… It made no earthly sense, unless t…
Dream fluently, still brothers, wh… Took with your mother’s milk the m… In which pure matrix, joining worl… You strove to leave some line of v… Like still fresh tracks across a f…
At the end a “The Prisoner of Zenda,” The King being out of danger, Stewart Granger (As Rudolph Rassendyll)
Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you in the dar… Who round with grace this dusky ar… Of the grand tour which souls must… You who have sounded William Blak…
The good gray guardians of art Patrol the halls on spongy shoes, Impartially protective, though Perhaps suspicious of Toulouse. Here dozes one against the wall,
