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226
A stone lies on the beachy shelf,
Its sand pedestal fed and eaten
By the obedient curving wave.
.
In the lacunae of the habitual
Is a chance thorn among millions,
And the drop pricked there may fabric
Cove, sand, wave, sky, and all.

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215
The meaning of a strand of hair
Is not, and is not in the eye.
The words that would carriage a reflection
Slough intention:
There is nothing in that still pool--
But undue specificity,
A diffraction of seeming.

214

213

212

The physiology of the heart rests on the page

And its motions are painstakingly clear.

.

In the chambering lamplight four birds flutter

To a shout in the street and the unanswering day.

.

Insufficiency: a swimmer in the ever-turbulance

Must struggle thus, but nothing more.

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209
It's an illness when looking at the sky
Having one but thinking of the next--
What is it, without words?
A nausea of longing
Engendering blankness.
Unperceived: the thud of a distant storm
And a horizon's shadowing flash.

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204
What matters is the weight of sense,
Memory's false remorse.
The pine without scent, color,
Without sharpness.

No burial nor summation
But the sun turns
The shadow of a blade of grass.

What is.
A marble with a name in a field,
And a starling's plod gait and dart.

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