Rae Armantrout

Double

So these are the hills of home. Hazy tiers  
nearly subliminal. To see them is to see  
double, hear bad puns delivered with a wink.  
An untoward familiarity.
 
Rising from my sleep, the road is more
and less the road. Around that bend are pale  
houses, pairs of junipers. Then to look
reveals no more.

Otras obras de Rae Armantrout...



Arriba