When I looked down from the bridgeTrout were flipping the skyInto smithereens, the stonesOf the wall warmed me. Wading green stems, lugs of leafThat untangle and bruise(Their tiny gushers of juice)My...
Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.It is as if I could dip my hand down into time and scoop upblue and...
I thought of walking round and round a space Utterly empty, utterly a source Where the decked chestnut tree had lost its place In our front hedge above the wallflowers. The...