You can’t go home, they say—I’ll… Of course, by that they mean, It’… Reminding us of what we always kne… To save our soppy selves from feel… (Later-life nostalgia by another n…

When you are truly old, No complaint will matter. Rage about being sick or poor Or misunderstood Will not be taken seriously.

They cast a lengthy shadow lurchin… Straining beneath a sun that doesn… So faithful to the heliotropes ben… Its heat and light: They never fe… These supplicants of Ra, both men…

You were a melancholic just like m… And though they’ve found no gene f… I gained a sober levity from you, Sage Witness to life’s tragicomed… You didn’t, though, rule out hope…

You have to love them to sift thei… The uric fragrance burning your no… As you render their special place… One of them watches, impatient, an… You have to be ready for sleep-ren…

I have no juvenilia, The flights a young man sings, But always, this arthritis To cramp my crooked wings. I didn’t save a single line