The friends have gone home far up… of that river into whose estuary the man from England sailed in his… in time to catch sight of the late… furring in black the remotest edge…

In the evening all the hours that weren’t used are emptied out and the beggars are waiting to gat… to open them

So gradual in those summers was th… of the age it seemed that the long… when the stars faded over the moun… leaving us even as the birds woke… glittered in the webs it appeared…

In the long evening of April thro… Bayle’s two sheep dogs sail down t… for the flock a moment before he a… a stub of a man rolling as he appr… smiling and smiling and his dogs a…

When I was beginning to read I im… that bridges had something to do w… and with what seemed to be cages b… that they were not cages it must h… with the dusty light flashing from…

There in the fringe of trees betwe… the upper field and the edge of th… below it that runs above the valle… one time I heard in the early days of summer the clear ringing

When you go away the wind clicks a… The painters work all day but at s… Showing the black walls The clock goes back to striking th… That has no place in the years

How long ago the day is when at last I look at it with the time it has taken to be there still in it now in the transparent light

Whenever I go there everything is… The stamps on the bandages the tit… Of the professors of water The portrait of Glare the reasons… The white mourning

It is March and black dust falls… Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here ha… Left already On the avenues the colorless threa…

A child looking at ruins grows you… but cold and wants to wake to a new name I have been younger in October than in all the months of spring

By this part of the century few ar… in the animals for they are not th… of them served on plates and the p… are sounds of shadows that possess… there is still game for the pleasu…

Why did he promise me that we would build ourselves an ark all by ourselves out in back of the house on New York Avenue

Moored to the same ring: The hour, the darkness and I, Our compasses hooded like falcons. Now the memory of you comes aching… With a wash of broken bits which n…

The star in my Hand is falling All the uniforms know what’s no us… May I bow to Necessity not To her hirelings