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…

When I was beginning to read I im… that bridges had something to do w… and with what seemed to be cages b… that they were not cages it must h… with the dusty light flashing from…

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…

There are threads of old sound hea… phrases of Shakespeare or Mozart… wands of the auroras playing out f… into dark time the passing of a fe… migrants high in the night far fro…

The cold slope is standing in dark… But the south of the trees is dry… The heavy limbs climb into the moo… I came to watch these White plants older at night

Naturally it is night. Under the overturned lute with its One string I am going my way Which has a strange sound. This way the dust, that way the du…

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

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

By this part of the century few ar… in the animals for they are not th… of them served on plates and the p… are sounds of shadows that possess… there is still game for the pleasu…

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

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

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

Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with…

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