Primary Notion

Very high

against a very blue shimmer of nothing,

quiescent

as at the tip of a straight blue branch of thought

from which depend blue shoots and scrolls of bloom-

cunning, too

to the core of his head which blue may never

penetrate-

perches my tanager, of ultimate Red.

EPITAPH

What was unimportant

he held at arm's length,

incurred a hatred

proportioned to his strength

Knew never the taste

of joy at its root,

knew the hard comfort

of the word's pursuit

Lived in his hope

and acted to the end,

died on a cold night

leaving one or two friends.