skirt torn
high
from fighting

on Spanish Rice. Like strange-eyed minks we took
the town, with bright, unearthly stares and offering
nothing. We were eager for suspicion. Ginger even

Anyone can see I am walking in a circle.

My nerves are trained Millions of years have gone by And I am not afraid of anything

And the stitches on his head told us He suffered sitting still

Words were pure forms And were not secure 

My morning cereal can’t contain my hunger.
I ask my wife for more. As usual, she refuses.
For once I’m undaunted and I eat the empty bowl.

Before he died our father asked to be left
on the dining room table. It was difficult,
but we’ve learned to eat our meals around him,

O transients on earth, what is man? 
what not? The shadow cast 
by a dream. But one whom the gods give 

The river was Missouri’s farthest source—
So clear and shallow, even stones and sand,
Under that sun, seemed golden in its course.