Now I will tell Meader’s story; I have a moral in view.
He was pestered by a Grizzly so bold and malicious
That he used to snatch caribou meat from the eaves of the cabin.

Faithful mother tongue
I have been serving you.
Every night, I used to set before you little bowls of colors

I will not grace you with a name...Even “you”, however modest the convention: not here.
No need here for that much presence. Let “you” be “she”, and let the choice, incidentally,
be dictated not by bitterness or fear—a discretion, simply, the most inoffensive decorum.

Winsome Bob meets Katherine & drops Nancy.
Nancy burrows even deeper
into her studies of semiology, at Yale.

Faithful mother tongue
I have been serving you.
Every night, I used to set before you little bowls of colors

How parched, how marrow-dust dry
they must get on their long surface and undersea
journeys—huge stuffed husks,

I bend
over the machine. Heat
and oil

The dandelion was hidden
That day in June
When the moon eclipsed the prairie

Nights—the long interims—when for a time 
one’s mind is stifled in the stardust-storm...

     Yet day does come—again all’s well— 

The moon as brittle as a tooth

The moon mistaken 
For a fortune coming true