A pink shaded car rises up into the pink shades or strips of the sky.
The top of the road flickers or jumps with the small wildness of an
insect’s wings.

The dull little stones are keeping themselves to themselves, as stones do.

Orpheus knew at first to dream her,
sing her, pray her, while walking,

I have a partridge egg,
a gift from a man
who found it in some field straw

“It’s when he began wearing saffron robes
that I started crossing the street to avoid him,”

What there was was a spherical rock in sunlight:
the full moon—its light on the strange but known
place to the east—over our side of the river.

The bees came for their flowered blouses.
   “Oh! Oh! Can’t we wear them anyway?”
A visit with coffee, phrases and clauses—

There are still hammers, aren’t there,
somewhere, and bricks dried in brick kilns?

The right movement of the right foot
on dirt under tree-green grass underfoot,
the right movement of the left foot:

is coming from the hunters’ woods
with open hands, allowing