In the chill rains of the early winter I hear something— …
Thomas McGrath
Forty-odd years ago— …
The birds have flown their summer skies to the south, …
Before you, I was living on an island …
These are savannas bluer than your dreams …
At two thousand feet the sea wrinkles like an old man’s hand. …
Sirs, when you are in your last extremity, …
We sat in the park, but there was a war between us, …
Imagine or remember how the road at last led us …
1. …
I don’t belong in this century—who does? …
All night long I hear the sleepers toss …
I see him moving, in his legendary fleece, …
Where once I loved my flesh, …
All cities are open in the hot season. …
It is autumn but early. No crow cries from the dry woods. …