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

In the cards and at the bend in th… we never saw you in the womb and in the crossfire in the numbers whatever you had your hand in

Duporte the roofer that calm voice those sure hands gentling weathere… into new generations or half of him rising through a roof like some sea spirit from a wave

So gradual in those summers was th… of the age it seemed that the long… when the stars faded over the moun… leaving us even as the birds woke… glittered in the webs it appeared…

In the evening all the hours that weren’t used are emptied out and the beggars are waiting to gat… to open them

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

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…

This is a place on the way after t… can no longer be kept straight her… of the barn a mound of wheels has… raveling courses to stop in a sing… and lie down as still as the chari…

Gray whale Now that we are sinding you to Th… That great god Tell him That we who follow you invented fo…

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…

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…

At the last minute a word is waiti… not heard that way before and not… repeated or ever be remembered one that always had been a househo… used in speaking of the ordinary

My friends without shields walk on… It is late the windows are breakin… My friends without shoes leave What they love Grief moves among them as a fire a…

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

Out of the dry days through the dusty leaves far across the valley those few notes never heard here before