YOUR western heads here cast on… You are the two that fade away tog… Partners in the mist. Lunging buffalo shoulder, Lean Indian face,

I WISH to God I never saw you,… I wish you never quit your job and… I wish we never bought a license a… For you to get married in the day… And told him we would love each ot…

I WANTED a man’s face looking i… of life With something proud on his face,… of the jaws, No gulp of the throat leaves the f…

I was born in the morning of the w… So I know how morning looks morning in the valley wanting, morning on a mountain wanting. Morning looks like people look,

THE SIX month child Fresh from the tub Wriggles in our hands. This is our fish child. Give her a nickname: Slippery.

(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms. I might have said, ‘Dogs bark and the wind carries it away.’ I might have said, ‘He who would make a door of gold mu...

NAPOLEON shifted, Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,

JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...

NOTHING else in this song-only… Nothing else here-only your drinki… The pier runs into the lake straig… I stand on the pier and sing how… It is not your eyes, your face, I…

ABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps ...

I GIVE the undertakers permissio… to the graveyard and to lay away a… feet, the hands, all: I know there… over they can not put away. Let the nanny goats and the billy…

She had a box with a million red bandanas for hi… She gave them to him one by one or by thousands, saying then she had not enough for…

THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunset… Under the valley roads of her eyes… There was a late autumn cricket, A hangover of summer song,

‘YOU ****,' he flung at her. It was more than a hundred times He had thrown it into her face And by this time it meant nothing… She said to herself upstairs sweep…

WHITE MOON comes in on a baby… The shafts across her bed are flim… Out on the land White Moon shines… Shines and glimmers against gnarle… All silver to slow twisted shadows