Once upon a time I was sitting ou… watching twilight in Umbria when a… out of the bakery with the bread h… She did not know what to do. Alre… by being thirteen and just that su…

Every morning the sad girl brings… and two lambs laggardly to the top… past my stone hut and onto the mou… She turned twelve last year and it… for the father to take her out of…

In the small towns along the river nothing happens day after long day… Summer weeks stalled forever, and long marriages always the same… Lives with only emergencies, birth…

I call it exile, or being relegate… I call it the provinces. And all the time it is my heart. My imperfect heart which prefers this distance from people. Prefers

I’d walk her home after work buying roses and talking of Bechst… She was full of soul. Her small room was gorged with hea… and there were no windows.

There was no water at my grandfath… when I was a kid and would go for… with two zinc buckets. Down the pa… past the cow by the foundation whe… the fine people’s house was before

The Poles rode out from Warsaw ag… Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in… A magnitude of beauty that allows… And yet this poem would lessen tha… The bravery. Say it’s not courage…

There is always the harrowing by m… the strafing by age, he thinks. Al… Sorrows come like epidemics. But… in the difficult way adults want t… It is worth having the heart broke…

Our heart wanders lost in the dark… Our dream wrestles in the castle o… But there’s music in us. Hope is… but the angel flies up again takin… The summer mornings begin inch by…