Consisting of Cameos in readiness, in mind followers, amused and hour downdrifting, the way the barbarians are fragile matchboxes before a single possibility She Lifted Her Chin And Laughed There were places where they could not pass those who they were sleeping nor forget the intricate unwise harvest of the well greater than trapped within a herd’s sphere One Night in September Unvandalized, Ithaka loosed pints of Strega On blossoms sick from the stained houses. And you embrace the same, fished-up morning aims, notes on your little ut- a little whisper and a water bare before long. Near The Common Air Others, whose flat strong hands fall through My heart, sleep Dogs in fields of moist Officials and aspiring Honey
