You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine... —Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine.

There is the sudden silence of the… above a player not moving on the f… and the silence of the orchid. The silence of the falling vase before it strikes the floor,

It could be the name of a prehisto… that roamed the Paleozoic earth, r… on its hind legs to show off its l… or some lover in a myth who is met… It means treasury, but it is just…

The early sun is so pale and shado… I could be looking up at a ghost in the shape of a window, a tall, rectangular spirit looking down at me in bed,

Smokey the Bear heads into the autumn woods with a red can of gasoline and a box of wooden matches. His ranger’s hat is cocked

What scene would I want to be env… more than this one, an ordinary night at the kitchen t… floral wallpaper pressing in, white cabinets full of glass,

I might as well begin by saying ho… It gets me right away because I’m… so immediately the poem has my att… like the Ancient Mariner grabbing… And I like the first couple of st…

When all of a sudden the city air… the distinguishable flakes blowing sideways, looked like krill fleeing the maw of an advancing wh…

I remember the night I discovered… lying in bed in the dark, that a few imagined holes of golf worked much better than a thousand… that the local links,

I wait for the holiday crowd to cl… before stepping onto the first wav… Soon I am walking across the Atla… thinking about Spain, checking for whales, waterspouts.

The whole idea of it makes me feel like I’m coming down with somethin… something worse than any stomach a… or the headaches I get from readin… a kind of measles of the spirit,

I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a boo… something to read at the doctor’€™… and while I am inside, running the… of inquisition along a shelf,

First, her tippet made of tulle, easily lifted off her shoulders an… on the back of a wooden chair. And her bonnet, the bow undone with a light forwar…

The other day as I was ricochetin… off the blue walls of this room bouncing from typewriter to piano from bookshelf to an envelope lyin… I found myself in the 'L’ section…

The murkiness of the local garage… that you cannot make out the calen… drawings on the wall above a bench… Your ears are ringing with the sou… the mechanic hammering on your exh…