Winter Smoke

From the January 1992 Print Edition

From the stack outside the window’s frame,White smoke, mostly steam, breaks hard acrossA bright blue square of winter sky.It tumbles in gusts, and its knots untieThen vanish in air.They are strangely calming, these forms aboveThe skeletal trees, the drifted roofs,Above the houses where livesGo . . . . Continue Reading »

In A Field Of Weeds

From the December 1991 Print Edition

“Man is but a reed, the weakest in nature, but he is a thinking reed.” ”Pascal, Pensees Five degrees. Rough, shifting winds. Sunlight crashingAlmost audibly, sky to snow-pack, snow-pack to skyEyes shrink hard to their smallest stop, but winter drills in.Brilliant splinters of ice . . . . Continue Reading »

Olive Bed

From the May 1991 Print Edition

“There was a bole of an olive tree with long leaves growing Strongly in the courtyard, and it was thick, like a column. I laid down my chamber around this.” The Odyssey, Book XXIIIWhere but in bed does the world begin. Where man and woman know, like children. By touch and taste, by . . . . Continue Reading »

When Lilacs Shake

From the April 1991 Print Edition

Now, in April, when lilacs shake in gusts of rain, the crown-like buds Waving thick and green on sceptre tips, I ask myself: What have we been. We two curled tight in winter’s dark?And when lilacs fully unfurl themselves. Their heart-shaped leaves. Their fragrant towers, purple or white. Then . . . . Continue Reading »