I was the patriarch of the shining… Of the blond summer and metallic g… Men vanished at the motion of my h… And when I beckoned they would co… The earth grew dense with grain at…

Who knows Where my sight goes, What your sight shows— Where the peachtree blows? The frogs sing

Europe: 1944 as regarded from a great distance Impersonal the aim Where giant movements tend; Each man appears the same;

Reptilian green the wrinkled throa… Green as a bough of yew the beard; He bent his head, and so I smote; Then for a thought my vision clear… The head dropped clean; he rose an…

Where am I now? And what Am I to say portends? Death is but death, and not The most obtuse of ends. No matter how one leans

From the high terrace porch I wat… No light appears, though dark has… Sunk from the cold and monstrous s… Lie naked but not light. The dark… Down the remoter gulleys; pooled,…

Dear Emily, my tears would burn y… But for the fire-dry line that mak… Burning my eyes, my fingers, while… Singly the words that crease my he… If I could make some tortured pil…

On the desert, between pale mounta… Far whispers creeping through an a… Coyote, on delicate mocking feet, Hovers down the canyon, among the… His voice running wild in the wind…

The branches, jointed, pointing up and out, shine out like brass. Upon the heavy

I could tell Of silence where One ran before Himself and fell Into silence

My mother Foresaw deaths And walked among Chrysanthemums, Winecolored,

You would extend the mind beyond t… Furious, bending, suffering in thi… And unpoetic dicta; you have been Forced by hypothesis to fiercer fa… As metal singing hard, with firmne…

The calloused grass lies hard Against the cracking plain: Life is a grayish stain; The salt-marsh hems my yard. Dry dikes rise hill on hill;