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And home to the single truth That I am the man you made. Philadelphia-San Francisco
Easy Street Hearing the cuckoo, Even in Kyoto I long for Kyoto. - Matsuo Basho I. In the world we loved The drapes were thick to block The light from Strand and Thirty-Third Until the ash vendor's voice Would claim the yellow air. 
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Awake, I'd
poke a pile of dead letters To which we had oversubscribed: The field report from Sans Souci; The Coonawarra tip sheet; The short-form questionnaire from Seagate Mews (Would we be bringing pets? How many head of cattle? Is your service-for-twelve yet intact?) In the world we loved We'd answer every inquiry With a proper question: Who wants to know? And you'd let slip your intimations: The dahlias, fading, mimicking healthy cactus; The oak veneer had traded up to gator hide; The cantaloupe and nectarine now thinned to bluing silk.  |
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