Generations on generations of German sound
Engineers have taken you at your word.
Here are the dials they use: Play, Record,

Like antelope bounding across
the wide lawns of Africa
are these flames that leap

The forecast calls for heavy snow again.
The graveyard shift over at Lover’s Leap,
Kill and Evisceration, need not come in.

his Jesus stole from us the face of God.
We saw only the back he had turned to us
as if no love had rolled away the stone.

I do not want the curious stranger
Staring, the smell of flame brought down

To enter the field without speaking
Of the bad years is to trust what is

Lowing of cattle: your voice, to the mind of Virgil,
felt mellifluous, as it does this evening
when a cloud slips off into the dark of the sky,

From a sky sand-brushed and blurring, rain.
Plants on the sill heave signs of loneliness.
The lamp glows, a pendulous jewel hung

So one day the late Bird highly fortified strolls into this posh
boite itself and down there, leaning on the bar, is Wallace
Stevens—newly arrived, old LLD tucked away, sheepskin in
wolf, flirting with the minishirted bartendress—whom he
welcomes. 

She didn't like him: long nose baits,
Voice patient yet overbearing (a voice
Meant for a world of women-as-children).
He'd expect a yielding kiss if not more.