31 August 2008
29 August 2008
27 August 2008
25 August 2008
19 August 2008
The grass has a flatness, yet single with shadows,
And the water beyond with glints, signs, has the pucker of a gull calling a wave to focus,
And the fence, against the terror, just so--
Grass, fence, water alternating in essence,
Eye, and shadow-casting form complacent.
O, summoned tableaux!
As careless of a sum as continuity imagined.
15 August 2008
In this visual field there are many things,
Trees and such, people, light,
That need no accounting,
All in completeness and one may weary of it
To death--the distillation of time behind the eye
Become tongue bitterness;
Or weightless to thought's matter;
Or lost in the obviate density of the sparrows.
I've lost my umbrella that interweaved construction--
I was fond of its articulation.
But a willful obscurity may suffice,
And the leaves, in their tedious sun-seeking.