I read how Quixote in his random… Came to a crossing once, and lest… The purity of chance, would not de… Whither to fare, but wished his ho… For glory lay wherever turned the…

At the end a “The Prisoner of Zenda,” The King being out of danger, Stewart Granger (As Rudolph Rassendyll)

for Rene Magritte The carpenter’s made a hole In the parlor floor, and I’m stan… Staring down into it now At four o’clock in the evening,

Piecemeal the summer dies; At the field’s edge a daisy lives… A last shawl of burning lies On a gray field-stone. All cries are thin and terse;

A woman I have never seen before Steps from the darkness of her tow… At just that crux of time when she… So beautiful that she or time must… What use to claim that as she tugs…

It’s not the case, though some mig… Who from a window watch the blizza… White riot through their branches… That they keep snug beneath their… They take affliction in until it j…

St. John tells how, at Cana’s wed… The water-pots poured wine in such… That by his sober count There were a hundred gallons at th… It made no earthly sense, unless t…

Seeing the snowman standing all al… In dusk and cold is more than he c… The small boy weeps to hear the wi… A night of gnashings and enormous… His tearful sight can hardly reach…

A Milkweed Anonymous as cherubs Over the crib of God, White seeds are floating Out of my burst pod.

In her room at the prow of the hou… Where light breaks, and the window… My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of…

The good gray guardians of art Patrol the halls on spongy shoes, Impartially protective, though Perhaps suspicious of Toulouse. Here dozes one against the wall,

That flower unseen, that gem of pu… Bright thoughts uncut by men: Strange that you need but speak th… And the mind skips and dives beyon… Finding at once the wild supposed…

Dream fluently, still brothers, wh… Took with your mother’s milk the m… In which pure matrix, joining worl… You strove to leave some line of v… Like still fresh tracks across a f…

Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you in the dar… Who round with grace this dusky ar… Of the grand tour which souls must… You who have sounded William Blak…