Because of the first, the fear of wreck, …
Eleanor Wilner
At first a silhouette on the horizon, then …
The landings had gone wrong; white silk, …
The cave looked much like any other …
As he looked up from his glass, its quickly melting ice, …
By the stream, where the ground is soft …
So it is here, then, after so long, and after all— …
To turn a stone …
The unicorn is an easy prey: its horn …
When he had suckled there, he began …
All around the altar, huge lianas …
came in an envelope with no return address; …
Here, in our familiar streets, the day …
The messenger runs, not carrying the news …
If the nose of the pig in the market of Firenze …
Nights, by the light of whatever would burn: …