Noon
Midnight
Shit is said in all the corners of the universe

There are books filled with nothing but descriptions of sunsets

Around here the countryside is one of the most beautiful in North America
The immense sheet of the lake is an almost white blue

Some very mean people have just blown up the bridge

You said if you write me
Don’t type everything
Add a line in your own hand

Christ
Here it’s been more than a year since I thought of You

Down in the valley you see that telegraph line whose rectilinear path cuts through the forest on the mountain across the way
All the poles are made of iron

The guillotine is the masterpiece of plastic art

Small girls with gaudy flowers
flash down the bare walk road

First            Samish Bay
             then all morning, hunting oysters