That which rings and spins, that which is broken
and between, lingers behind the curtain. We were
a family business: My father, top and tails, sawing

A slender plank above a waterhole,
planted on end to meet my wants,
I hear its whisper in the stock.

Eastern Sea, 100 fathoms,
green sands, pebbles,
broken shells.

Jesus wrote in the sand.
I write in red notebooks. . . .

After grace and after rain,

If a man walks with one hand on the baby carriage
As he argues with the mother but picks blossoms
From the park trees to fold into the carriage

Ardea Candidissima, snowy
Heron or White
Egret, printed London 1835, not

Therefore, above all things, he loathed
his miserable self. 

A man bigger than you and more intelligent
walks into his future as into a dining room
anticipating small surprises and large comforts.

Here is a little book of instructions. It says care
must be taken. For instance, a form of health as a
version of vanity (as when a poor stonecutter set up 

Some sad Greek said the atoms swerve
and that’s how anything happens, “any­
thing” meaning not nothing. The nerve