He that had come that morning, …
W. S. Merwin
I will tell you what he told me …
Late in May as the light lengthens …
Each face in the street is a slice of bread …
At times now from some margin of the day …
Gray whale …
Every year without knowing it I have passed the day …
On a road through the mountains with a friend many years ago …
From the kindness of my parents …
Back when it took all day to come up …
I live up here …
When Hans Hofmann became a hedgehog …
It sounds unconvincing to say When I was young …
The night the world was going to end …
Neither my father nor my mother knew …
Long after Ovid’s story of Philomela …
Your absence has gone through me …
Here comes the shadow not looking where it is going, …
Four feet up, under the bruise-blue …
What is the head …
Let me call a ghost, …
Thinking of rain clouds that rose over the city …
All the way north on the train the sun …
Listen …
All these years behind windows …
When the forests have been destroyed their darkness remains …
Matches among other things that were not allowed …
I gave you sorrow to hang on your wall …
Oh pile of white shirts who is coming …
In a dream I returned to the river of bees …
The way to the river leads past the names of …
In the cards and at the bend in the road …
For longer than by now I can believe …
Thank you but …
When you are already here …
With what stillness at last …