-after the T'ang poets
At my feet, even the water spider
rests, unmoving on the still surface,
...
On days like this, when I've risen early and invited
the Muse and she, despite my pleadings, continues
to sleep and won't be roused, and I've stared
into the blank page
...
After dinner, I walk out of the Hotel Giotto, up
the winding street. Elsewhere, this would be called the gloaming,
the air sweet and darkening, the distant Umbrian hills
fading into mist.
...