Poetry
Winter 1965
Listening to Leda in the Cemetery
After the shortcut past the stones, By clover lawns and cherry trees, I watched a clipped priest of a swan Invest himself in water. Saw The quick transparency: blue mist […]
Poetry
Winter 1965
Fred’s Case
To Ed McClanahan Where others have a thing for wrens, grosbeaks And orioles, with Fred it’s nighttime hens. No choice, he says, at all. Says that it seems As […]