He was struck with awe at the sight of them:
a shoal lifting above the water's surface;
each head trained to his voice's timbre,

It’s the broken phrases, the fury inside him.
Squiggling alto saxophone playing out rickets
And jaundice, a mother who tried to kill him

I wonder if he would ever take me away
with him. I wish he was my husband instead of my customer!

One night in Portugal, alone in a forlorn
village at twilight, escaping her parents,
she saw a full moon baptized on the water

You are invisible as air
and as necessary, more efficient
than a flood leveling cities,

We walked down the path to breakfast.
The morning swung open like an iron gate.

a God uncreated or else a God withdrawn
a God comprehended is no God

We stood in the midst
   of a great alluvial plain
         and felt the horizon coming

and listened to the little European nightingale
        singing amidst our homelessness
as if the twentieth century had never happened.

No one ever leaves
the building across the street
and I can’t explain why
I spent the summer
staring at its blank windows
and stony facade, its caged trees,
while the sun crawled
across the light-blue emptiness
yawning with clouds.