Poetry
Autumn 1950
Sunday
The sky is Easter blue. The wind is March. The Sunday clock primps its religious beat To the bargain-sale precision of a starch Bright sun upon a purple bonnet. How […]
Poetry
Autumn 1950
Stackers of Wheat
The sky is full of sun, immense with heat Twisting the mind upon itself. It seems To make the thin blue atmosphere retreat Into a height of no computing yet […]