Choose a quiet place, a ruins, a house no more a house, under whose stone archway I stood one day to duck the rain.

It wasn’t the bright hems of the… that brushed my face and I opened… to see from a cleft in rock His ba… it’s a wasp perched on my left che… my eyes closed and stand perfectly…

When I lay my head in my mother’s… I think how day hides the stars, the way I lay hidden once, waiting inside my mother’s singing to hers… how she carried me on her back

Childhood? Which childhood? The one that didn’t last? The one in which you learned to be… of the boarded-up well in the back… and the ladder in the attic?

She begins, and my grandmother joi… Mother and daughter sing like youn… If my father were alive, he would… his accordion and sway like a boat… I’ve never been in Peking, or the…

Sad is the man who is asked for a… and can’t come up with one. His five-year-old son waits in his… Not the same story, Baba. A new o… The man rubs his chin, scratches h…

That scraping of iron on iron when… rises, what is it? Something the w… quit with, but drags back and fort… Sometimes faint, far, then suddenl… beyond the screened door, as if so…

I buried my father in my heart. Now he grows in me, my strange son… My little root who won’t drink mil… Little pale foot sunk in unheard-o… Little clock spring newly wet

Through the night the apples outside my window one by one let go their branches and

There’s nothing I can’t find unde… Voices in the trees, the missing p… of the sea. Everything but sleep. And night is a river bridging

Look at the birds. Even flying is born out of nothing. The first sky is inside you, open at either end of day.

Because this graveyard is a hill, I must climb up to see my dead, stopping once midway to rest beside this tree. It was here, between the anticipat…

Someone said my name in the garden… while I grew smaller in the spreading shadow of the peo… grew larger by my absence to anoth… grew older among the ants, ancient