Hit Title Date Added
View From A North Window
For a moment, the sun
on a red barn, dying,
on dry fields still as a gold death-mask
warmed yellow only to the eye
Woman Playing Guitar
Her breast
like a fruit
One Tree Island
holding my eye
she undoes her blouse
my strict attention

Each Stone
What they left behind them
are the stone fences.

Each stone,
Branch After Branch
Slats of clear gold sunlight
and snow like fur on every branch
and every branch after branch after branch
as far as thought can reach...
After Reading An Epic Fantasy
Quite suddenly, full blown,
out of the chubby cheeks of an infant wind,
a leaf landed on a mud-puddle,
like a strange, crude vessel launched
I Step Out On My Porch Near Midnight
flecked by moon made mica.

Cold, windless air—even
The red pulse of three turn signals and the click of my own
—a serial music, more for the eye than the ear.

Images of unseen birds sweep the rear window of the car ahead,
Night Journey
Unable to sleep
I stand at the northeast window. A pond
of snow-melt,
back dropped by five spruces
A disc the yellow of old ivory, and then,
for the first time in a life oblivious,

it comes into focus, the face of the man

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6/14/2021 6:14:11 AM #