I knew a girl who also had a ghost
living in her mouth-what we called dumb

and meant the sound of all her clicking rings,

Claude, be still, light
is what you're seeing now:
the moon contained in dusk,

“He picked up
a bee!”
is what

I set out a bowl
for the pepper birds.
“Pepper birds,”

I get on
the racket bus,
and see one empty seat

Time does wonders. But should it come unjustly,
with the throb of guilt: we aren’t at home.

I am a dead man who wanders
nowhere announced

 

Filled by nothing other than our suffering.
Conform to us exactly!

Under the olive trees the light pours out its seeds,
poppies appear and begin to flicker,
burning the oil that feeds their fire;

Wherever we turn in the storm of roses,
thorns illuminate the night. And the thunder