305.
So little said and so much waking
salt meadow hay best mulch men say
I’ve managed to know nothing but what
I can speak
the van is at the door it’s all just
weather
sitting here alone with my hibiscus
tree
the written evidence tells against my
life
my father by the cellar door painting
grey
everything waits for us below
an image worthy of your eye
the end of the pagan world was the
end of the world
nothing learned nothing lost
I marvel at the emptiness of me.
306.
So it can mean a little or a lot
a billboard on a vacant lot is all my
Hollywood
and see behind it how the lovers
chance
it would be Ancient Greek if it had a
goat
but wisdom does not wear a cloak
the afternoon is longer than the
night
or so the bird explained
a language half sound half color
all things intersect in you
all the silken raptures of the couch
rainstorm in the desert
from great pain some red flowers
after.
