O little men who mock his macho enterprise!

His years line up there in receding ranks
Like so many doubting Thomases.

a tall one, but she sang Delilah well;
she could stand up to the Philistines or Placido like anything.

To be one with earth and sky. You ate and went
Immortal, one of the cloudy sages of air;

for a man who writes about
loneliness so much
his poems are full of people.

They want one of every kind and they
can’t help it, it’s an addiction,

Under the lavender foam of cirrus, swallows
Looped; beyond trees, the pavement whined.

Yearning was fuel; yet the white-out buried the climber,
His possessions, chalcolithic gear.

Musings. Where do they seep to, down there on the floor?

Here bricks are so rare they are like agates
We wonder who would carry them so far
Here I feel good because I have nothing
I am thinking about