Your glassy wind breaks on a shoutless shore and stirs around
                                                                                                the rose.

what shape should I file my nails I wonder / follow shape of moon usually best / once I did them square

It was the sound of her writing that woke me. Since you ask, this
is what I remember. Her desk is just outside my room. Some days

All he could see from this scene over Bluehill, Maine
(no distortions here: the work is from a seagirted light),
is enough of a world for any man, it seems plain

As evening lifted off the canals
and sounds we couldn’t see through,
muffled as a vaporetto moving through water

The sad music of roads lined with larches.
The forest in the distance resting under snow.

The Khyber Pass. Alexander the Great.

Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.

In a little patch of ground beside
the wall of the Earth Sciences building,
a man in a canvas hat was on

But I kept going. Went
a long way without stopping.
Left the dogs, my friends, behind.

Driving lickety-split to make the ferry!
Snow Creek and then Dog Creek
fly by in the headlights.