The half-stripped trees
struck by a wind together,
bending all,
the leaves flutter drily
...
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
...
A middle-northern March, now as always--
gusts from the South broken against cold winds--
but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide,
it moves--not into April--into a second March,
...
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast -- a cold wind. Beyond, the
...
Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
like a buttercup
upon its branching stem-
save that it's green and wooden-
...
I stopped the car
to let the children down
where the streets end
in the sun
...
The dayseye hugging the earth
in August, ha! Spring is
gone down in purple,
weeds stand high in the corn,
...
I have had my dream- like others-
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
...