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…

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

Gray whale Now that we are sinding you to Th… That great god Tell him That we who follow you invented fo…

There are threads of old sound hea… phrases of Shakespeare or Mozart… wands of the auroras playing out f… into dark time the passing of a fe… migrants high in the night far fro…

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

With what stillness at last you appear in the valley your first sunlight reaching down to touch the tips of a few high leaves that do not stir

My friends without shields walk on… It is late the windows are breakin… My friends without shoes leave What they love Grief moves among them as a fire a…

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…

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…

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…

Thinking of rain clouds that rose… on the first day of the year in the same month I consider that I have lived dail… eyes open and ears to hear

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

I gave you sorrow to hang on your… Like a calendar in one color. I wear a torn place on my sleeve. It isn’t as simple as that. Between no place of mine and no pl…

In a dream I returned to the rive… Five orange trees by the bridge an… Beside two mills my house Into whose courtyard a blind man f… The goats and stood singing

Out of the dry days through the dusty leaves far across the valley those few notes never heard here before