It's true: I am a coward. The other night,
at dinner, I neglected to tell you how much
I detest your latest novel. Had you asked me,

There you are again, arms
outstretched as if to welcome me.
I am fluttering 

How easily we say he’s down 
And out or itinerant, that tramp 
Rummaging the afternoon, 

& with a blunt cafeteria table knife
mr macadam clerical officer bludgeons
the half poached egg that is his

whisper it gently when you
want me to wander away
the kiss off will refuse ad–

the sand is always there again in
the morning sprawling in the
tall dawn light and gulls pull at

If the Emperor smiles
a thread falls that cuts

No one knew her real name, but she appeared to be Greek.
She posed nude for painters, when she could find them.
She could slap hard enough to draw blood.

September’s lovely in New York, the sky 
Returned to baby blue, the breeze now mild 
As breath, and if you’ve anything at all 

It seems someone else was interested in order, too—
The squat trees edging away down the slope
In wavy lines like rivulets—but wasn’t very good at it.