Poems

HOW MANY STREAMS CAN YOU RAKE WITH YOUR COPPER RAKE?

The nets have come up empty, leaving us free to imagine
What the object was. Who crayoned large, red slogans
On my body as I was sleeping? The dream
Would bleed away if I opened my eyes. This longing
Beyond you is love, and no cause for sadness.


THE HERON

The sun was white, and set among the snowclouds like a
          bruise.
A twilight settled over the red mills that I confuse.
It almost frightened me, although I took it in my stride:
A sense of winged depression, like the heron's final glide.


PERSPICUOUS WEATHER

The weather was like a new pin this afternoon.
A strict illusion brings the loose patrol
Across the field of February mud.
...