Poetry
Fall 2011
Cairn
Oldest it may be human sign. Not I but a stone man. To be read is older than to write at all, the hunter, the hunt- ed. As a sign […]
Poetry
Fall 2011
Th Friend
The rain loves you alone to- gether down the garden hall- way. How clearly now cranes are called cranes in the bright con- struc- tion. Those flies too a sound […]
Poetry
Fall 2011
Lascaux
What has with a woodpecker to do in this, of apple tree from that to this, to west, of sig- nal east, of noise . . . . . . […]