God, but one wearies of flipping them,
of turning them, or punching or,
with certain rheostatted switches, sliding them.

At first, he wondered why he should be spared;
Observed, of all the windows, none was barred,
And every door swung open at a word.

I walk along the shore.
Wind's salt tongue licks my face.
And see—beyond the swells

Pool at the Antzo-mendi
The Antzo-mendi bar was where
we went when we were male adolescents.
The place was big
and had a pool table in the middle.
Wooden floors.
You heard Velvet Underground there,
Ziggy Stardust.

Trotsky for me was riding
high up on the back of the tractor.

Trotsky for me was taking a bath naked
with my little friend in the bathtub.

Wine-Dark Sea

A.H.

the sea in small slow waves
washes over the pebbles
up and back again