The gray person disputes the other’s clotheshorse stature 
       just send us some water maybe 
herding him onto the escalator for a last roll 

Thunder unrolling over the vulnerable city,
purple and ink blue, above the huddle of workers
scrambling to commute, some to a bar where

I walk along the length of a stone and gravel garden
and feel without looking how the fifteen stones
appear and disappear. I had not expected the space

Yes, I want someone to know me well,
better than the foreman at Ford Electra
knows the chips

All night I dreamed of ornate fountains,
water sprayed in intricate designs
like liquid lace or the traceries of Gothic

On the Irish coast, a rutted road
traced a winding track along the wind-
scored face of a limestone bluff.

Coming into eighty
I slow my ship down
For a safe landing.

A long silk
is pulled quickly
over my upturned palms

oh of course I was often a second time
in rome—but at certain times I was also
actually there for the third or fifth time. when were

Set in the silence of pure perspective,
the ideal city has no people in it,
only buildings. On these streets Order rules