82

2017 : 82

Who knows where
o where
humans hurt,
but we have the blackbirds
yes, and my mother
–she was quite silly–
and I think that was so

81

2017 : 81

Concentrate.

Some daughter sang
in the hills
called a bird
rising in the
clear far off
the land was
rifted and still
wet with ferns.

78

2017 : 78

The world–
everything: clothes,
wheels, land, leaf.

Let me hoard this:
the wind swift in the sky
the stars
the sky of a mountain
the days in the mirror
and the bliss that is
the earth.

77

2017 : 77

and open a long silent hand
smell a small shift
look at every face
(long and transparent)
who believed
look out
naked and shaking
and answer

75

2017 : 75

the moon sometimes
murmurs the confusion
of the streetlamp

descending from
somewhere the red
ships, dark and strange

a winter year of hands
my mother full of
the garden

the open field of space

74

2017 : 74

Asked to cheer,
you know what I said?
I was already the
problem and the theory,
asleep in the ship
I had to control.