Colligated points, dust, ultimately a cloud, as in
an orographic cloud in Colorado cringing against
a horizon. Boundaried vision and vapor conspire
...
The heron resolves itself from the gray lake the water
conversely the woman dissolves in sex, her own
...
The Pontalba Apartments in the View-Master
and the cardboard cathedral as if trapped in the dream
twenty years early, the whole a furious search
...
I was young once, at least, if not beautiful.
And what is beauty anyway? The light off snow
is pretty. I was young once, as young as any.
After all, she thought, to know the edge
...
Pei designed the building with views,
smooth masonry, and the mountains aligned
for a photo opportunity; inside are files
...
Heraldry and all its lovely language;
I chose my time there learning
elsewhere, where else than land,
...
So much I thought was only personal, like poetry,
like caring nothing for Caillebotte the man,
like arriving in Chicago by bus one gray morning
...
"Who are you to tell us how to live or why,
et cetera?" No Man, of course, and not so tall
as is the current fashion, nor smart enough
...
Sonnet 29
Is there a sound? There is a forest.
What is the world? The word is wilderness.
...