Whenever I go there everything is… The stamps on the bandages the tit… Of the professors of water The portrait of Glare the reasons… The white mourning

In the evening all the hours that weren’t used are emptied out and the beggars are waiting to gat… to open them

My friends without shields walk on… It is late the windows are breakin… My friends without shoes leave What they love Grief moves among them as a fire a…

Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with…

So gradual in those summers was th… of the age it seemed that the long… when the stars faded over the moun… leaving us even as the birds woke… glittered in the webs it appeared…

I gave you sorrow to hang on your… Like a calendar in one color. I wear a torn place on my sleeve. It isn’t as simple as that. Between no place of mine and no pl…

When you go away the wind clicks a… The painters work all day but at s… Showing the black walls The clock goes back to striking th… That has no place in the years

Gray whale Now that we are sinding you to Th… That great god Tell him That we who follow you invented fo…

When Hans Hofmann became a hedgeh… somewhere in a Germany that has vanished with its forests and hedg… Shakespeare would have been a youn… starting out in a country that was

With what stillness at last you appear in the valley your first sunlight reaching down to touch the tips of a few high leaves that do not stir

In a dream I returned to the rive… Five orange trees by the bridge an… Beside two mills my house Into whose courtyard a blind man f… The goats and stood singing

The friends have gone home far up… of that river into whose estuary the man from England sailed in his… in time to catch sight of the late… furring in black the remotest edge…

My friend says I was not a good s… you understand I say yes I understand he says I did not go to see my parents very often you k…

While I think of them they are gr… after the distances they have foll… all the way to the end for the fir… tracing a memory they did not have until they set out to remember it

The cold slope is standing in dark… But the south of the trees is dry… The heavy limbs climb into the moo… I came to watch these White plants older at night