Listen with the night falling we are sayi… we are stopping on the bridges to… we are running out of the glass ro… with our mouths full of food to lo…

There in the fringe of trees betwe… the upper field and the edge of th… below it that runs above the valle… one time I heard in the early days of summer the clear ringing

When you go away the wind clicks a… The painters work all day but at s… Showing the black walls The clock goes back to striking th… That has no place in the years

Whenever I go there everything is… The stamps on the bandages the tit… Of the professors of water The portrait of Glare the reasons… The white mourning

I gave you sorrow to hang on your… Like a calendar in one color. I wear a torn place on my sleeve. It isn’t as simple as that. Between no place of mine and no pl…

Matches among other things that we… never would be lying high in a cool blue box that opened in other hands and the… bodies clean and smooth blue heads…

In a dream I returned to the rive… Five orange trees by the bridge an… Beside two mills my house Into whose courtyard a blind man f… The goats and stood singing

It was a late book given up for lo… again and again with its sentences bare at last and phrases that seem… revealing what had been there the… the poems of daylight after the da…

Now that you have caught sight of the other side of darkness the invisible side so that you can tell it is rising

What is the head A. Ash What are the eyes A. The wells have fallen in and h… Inhabitants

In the long evening of April thro… Bayle’s two sheep dogs sail down t… for the flock a moment before he a… a stub of a man rolling as he appr… smiling and smiling and his dogs a…

When Hans Hofmann became a hedgeh… somewhere in a Germany that has vanished with its forests and hedg… Shakespeare would have been a youn… starting out in a country that was

Moored to the same ring: The hour, the darkness and I, Our compasses hooded like falcons. Now the memory of you comes aching… With a wash of broken bits which n…

The friends have gone home far up… of that river into whose estuary the man from England sailed in his… in time to catch sight of the late… furring in black the remotest edge…

While I think of them they are gr… after the distances they have foll… all the way to the end for the fir… tracing a memory they did not have until they set out to remember it