This morning there was another one
Looking used but not worn out
Beside the road
What do they mean

Smooth muscles tic. Honeyed sunlight
spreads thickly on stadium grass. 
Drinkers of grace shout throats dry, 

You are the secret conscience of the age.
Your power is confirmed
in the milkman's punctuality.

Slip is one
law of crash
among dozens.

Much
of life is Dutch
one-digit operations

Eventually the
most accident-prone

One can't work
by lime light.
A bowl full
right at
one's elbow

(What a Trojan horse) 
thought Matrigupta, 
rewarded for his verse 

There is snow on Vesuvius
And the barometer has dropped to one.
Winter again and Spring suspended

 I don’t have to tell you. The small birds—
red and black finches, khaki banana quits—
invaded our bungalow, snatched crumbs, devoured