These tall things don’t need weeding.
But I can’t get over the fireplace.
It’s useless.

I would like to devote my special attention
To this horse
Let me tell you about it

Then I arrived at the capital, vaguely saturated
with fog and rain. What streets were those?
The garments of 1921 were breeding

As your eyes are blue
you move me—& the thought of you—
I imitate you.

“O.K. imps, snot-freaks, pill-elves,
hi-fi fairy-fury flipsters and intelligences,
its out, all out now onto the rooftops—

You approach me carrying a book
The instructions you read carry me back beyond birth
To childhood and a courtyard bouncing a ball

On this day, anno 1966
The thin Scandinavian girl whose fine-nosed
                      white collie sniffs along the shaded walk.

Glad we met
you
he told the guest

how ‘this age’
        will bear it   

Gaily experienced and somewhat accidental
The disaster which overtook them
Surrounded the discameled travelers.