Collecte Works (32 page)

Truth

gives heat

He blushed

when I said

before he came

I never wore beads

Lights, lifts

parts nicely opposed

this white

             lice lithe

pink bird

O late fall

marsh—

              I

raped by the dry

weed stalk

CHURCHILL'S DEATH

I was painting the
Whooping Crane, the
fingers-flying-pinnae
when the news came

Air Minister

Sir Bird-White

man-high

yard-long stride

over

and out

…

The funeral

Out of the great courtyard

past the Tower that can be seen

             on a winter day

the Tramp of Time

via Telstar

so that we may go

                    with him

The Badlands

Adlai Steven-
son's death

We'd have danced

to sandstone spooks

in a beige land

but for stratified

             vacancy

A student

my head always down

of the grass as I mow

I missed the cranes.

“These crayons fly

in a circle ahead”

said a tall fellow.

Bird singing

ringing yellow

    green

My friend made green

             ring

—his painting—

    grass

the sweet bird

flew in

Easter Greeting

I suppose there is nothing

so good as human

immediacy

I do not speak loosely

of handshake

              which is

              of the mind

or lilies—stand closer—

smell

CITY TALK

I

The flower beds

               on the superhighways—

Well they have all

                the facilities

the information

                from the colleges

they force it

                and all that garbage

II

I'm good for people?—

penetrating?—if you mean

I'm rotting here—

I'm an alewife

the fish the seagull

has no taste for

I die along the shore

and send a bad smell in

As praiseworthy

The power of breathing (Epictetus)

while we sleep. Add:

to move the parts of the body

without sound

and to float

on a smooth green stream

in a silent boat

They've lost their leaves

the maples along the river

but the weeping willow still

               hangs green

and the old cracked boat-hulk

        mud-sunk

grows weeds

year after year

My mother saw the green tree toad

on the window sill

her first one

since she was young.

We saw it breathe

and swell up round.

My youth is no sure sign