485

483

482

481

480

479
My eye was traitor to my affection,
And with sly inversion turned my object's spy.
.
My subdivisions, winter-tree'd ravens,
Were figments. As hers.
.
Unmuffle the bell;
And ribboned tree, and open eye.

478

477

476

475

474
A blank screen electric,
Bitter, snow-crust field
Night-set, wind-flat frame
Of a thing sustained
Without a cold-eyed trace.
.
Still--below--a stratum shift
In now light or next dark:
A new-boundaried state.

473

472

471

470

469
This article is undone to expose
The line of your neck, and time's;
Slender and grave both
And each.
The strain of an hour's reverse and addition
Is diminished by the fine-haired arc;
Yet, pause: an emblem may suffice.

468

467

466

465

464
In the aftermath of day, by the sun's staircase
Lettering down ink-blot cloud,
The symbols fade fine-veined
And in darkness seeping the star steps from
The runner's edge, done:
Event and eye, one.

463

462

461
It is no thing to understand
Nor thought nor manner
Nor device unmattered
For discretion's sake.
No: tis that ever-unfixed mark,
Motion's measure in slant sense stood.

460

459
In primitive without thought
Of stars underfoot, the silica grains,
The unsyllabled all between our toes--
And in the sun-bent grass the arc of time--
Our eyes on the blue-ruled edge.

458

457

456

455
The leaves are a thing to lose,
The lawn of yellow points.
Un-image a measure of days,
A season distempered both
In time's gray subsequence
And a separation all-ordained, unseen.

454

453

452

451
In the autumn street of leaves
'Dressed, posted, returned--
Nature's speculation's done.
Hued brevity now, underfoot slid, wind moved
As we, unvolitioned in love's season.

450

449

448

447

446

445
Dawn's light solitude
In comfort chill and robed thought
And spotted pane accompany,
Turns isolation's stiff yeared
Unbellied cat in hall darkness,
And blind lashed, streaked and dusty sill.

444

443

442

441

440
In approximation,
The moment rounded with a scud
Of low concern and cloud--
The misfiled, the blotted
Sun running in monochrome seams,
A striated score to this arc of day.
.
A plainsong of air, of nothing
In silence, and surprise.