the fable will be finished soon
she said snipping off its cherry coloured threads
the whir of the music in her head
...
[for Maurice Ravel]
reading the snows as though they were blind music,
...
what does being 'seen' in a world
that's going to pass away some day,
mean anyway?
...
bridge collapsing near the farthest dream
I read on the walls of my nightmare
or on the sign illumined in gold at
...
white frosted flowers and the stenciled stars
I remember most of all; bright candies
in jars, the mottled rose of the dawn
...
[to my mother]
she poured tea and let it slip
pretending to trip
...
in his later stories
maybe his fingers froze
down to the last candle
...
your three wishes keep
even in your sleep
those who seem to pray
...
caught in the downdraft of scurilous words
could I walk on my knees to Santiago?
would candles come out to meet me
...
the dust lies over all
said a whisper in my head
think that instead
...