I lie down in the grass
under the stars, on
a night that can

I drink
make Yuri cry
get scared, lose heart

I will build you a flag of how I know:
I am counting blackbirds as they fly away,
When you walk by,

There are real tigers in that jungle,
But I walked through it and came out alive.
My skin is tougher now where they clawed me.

Imagine starting with that option
(a deistic turn of faith, or generosity?)
each lens minutely tinted a petition-

All night you talked about your work, how the market would go up and up, how there was nothing to lose no matter how great the risk. The women loved you for that. A strong wind blew in from the bay, but it did not so much as ruffle your hair. The wheels of the Chrysler spun freely in a ditch.

This year the arsonist burns his own room.
If the lilac blooms, it has its reasons.

I must confess to everything.

The lighthouse as an image
of loneliness has its limits.

For as we stand on the shore

In the diner the busboy counts the empty stools and looks at his reflection in the coffee urns. On the radio the announcer says the allies have won another victory. There have been few casualties.