Imagine, the grace of these children! 
We are in the sun. What elapses 
is history. Do you ever move? 

And then they are there all of the people depressed 
Into tattoos or footprints or names plastered 
Or carved into wood or wall 

Softness belongs to life. 
Tell me your forbidden thoughts 
and we will breathe together.

  The sun beats down as if it were in a frenzy over broken promises. The heat of the concrete and walls seems as if it would begin to howl like Sioux with rifles sold by the bad white men. You drop into your chair like a good man who is deciding what to do next. The Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific drift by your mind's eye. O, daydreams!

Her name 
was Margaret 
and she drummed 

Switch on lights yellow as the sun 
                                                    in the bedroom... 
The gaudy poet dead         Frank O'Hara's bones 

So gay on your lovely head 
The hat cradles the specialty 
Of the house brand-new 

Thank you for your letter
and its extenuations.

I'll tell you who I am: someone
you never met
though on a train you studied a boil on my neck

I can not feel her voice I am too far away skiing in Austria.