1282

1281

1280

1279

1278

1277

1276

1275

1274

1273

For dominion sleep

And of endings dream,

And waking put finger to pane,

And eye to cloud and tree without,

To start at immediacy's

Blunt elsewhere's tang,

And your domain's razor-wide within.

1272

1271

1270

1269

1268

1267

1266

1265

1264
Shadows make light
As trees make a space of air,
As days a yonder field,
As absence, presence.

1263

1262

1261
In the mind's empire
From what vantage is this small beheld?
What buffets found this armature?
What vanquished fears seam
The heart's public square,
Where idlers indifferent
Recall views more fair?
What austerity's denuded
Ornate private spaces,
Or has clarity, or lack,
Suited deed to thought?
Any caretaker's redundant,
All make-work is done,
Emperor and subject
Were always one.

1260

1259

1258

1257

1256

1255

1254

1253

1252

She met him as one might

A stranger meet through time

By continents parted

In the same room, propinquity

To ease inversely proportioned.

By itself devoured

The future is no sustenance;

Twixt now and next

And thought and act

Is where we reside,

And our pasts little weigh,

Would we know it,

Or she, or him.

1251

1250

1249

In the subduing dark
The petals are ghosts of another hour--
Sunlight silk within
Casting shadows of day
In the larger depth.
Solicitude is the hue
Of these things at night
Pink flowers turning blue
In this sad companion's sight.

.
In the subsuming dark
The cherry is a ghost without,
To sensual brief
A suited partner.

1248

1247

1246

1245

1244

1243

1242
Gilgamesh
Don't ride the bike today
Don't ride for Death
He has shaped this thing
To his purpose.
And Gilgamesh opened his mouth
To his thought gave form
I have no purpose
No purpose but to live
To ride is my purpose.

[in memory of John Gardner]

1241

1240

1239

1238
It's curious as time the night air
As language across
Lip and brow
Touch then gone--
A place but not a place,
A face made soft by air

In no space of time.

1237

1236

1235
Surrender what is held you secret self--
What weight's identity
Without your small purview?
You atrium bird skyless shot-winged,
Lighter air's beyond the glass,
Though of the self-same stuff.

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