#Americans
Every morning I forget how it is. I watch the smoke mount In great strides above the city. I belong to no one. Then, I remember my shoes,
One shows me how to lie down in a… Another how to slip my hand under… Another how to kiss with a mouth f… Another how to catch fireflies in… Here is a stable with a single bla…
On the road with billowing poplars… In a country flat and desolate To the far-off gray horizon, where… A man and a woman went on foot, Each carrying a small suitcase.
As an ant is powerless Against a raised boot, And only has an instant To have a bright idea or two. The black boot so polished,
A world’s disappearing. Little street, You were too narrow, Too much in the shade already. You had only one dog,
Boss of all bosses of the universe… Mr. know-it-all, wheeler-dealer, w… And whatever else you’re good at. Go ahead, shuffle your zeros tonig… Dip in ink the comets’ tails.
Father studied theology through th… And this was exam time. Mother knitted. I sat quietly wit… Full of pictures. Night fell. My hands grew cold touching the fa…
A New Version: 1980 What is that little black thing I… in the white? Walt Whitman One
And the one that’s got it in for y… Mister, that keeps taunting you In an old man’s morning wheeze Every time you so much as glance a… Or blurt something in your defense…
In my great grandmother’s time, All one needed was a broom To get to see places And give the geese a chase in the… •
Enter without knocking, hard-worki… I’m just sitting here mulling over What to do this dark, overcast day… It was a night of the radio turned… Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dre…
You give the appearance of listeni… To my thoughts, o trees, Bent over the road I am walking On a late summer evening When every one of you is a steep s…
The night still frightens you. You know it is interminable And of vast, unimaginable dimensio… “That’s because His insomnia is p… You’ve read some mystic say.
The truth is dark under your eyeli… What are you going to do about it? The birds are silent; there’s no o… All day long you’ll squint at the… When the wind blows you’ll shiver…
On the first page of my dreambook It’s always evening In an occupied country. Hour before the curfew. A small provincial city.
