Page Title

She's good at all those

wooden nickel tokens

and food substitutes. Hush,

silence. Her twisting away

violates her own law.

Her life's magnet is silence.

Washington (July)

Sweating between the father

and mother of American monuments

along the collegium of American

elms on a Wednesday the tourists

are casual, clumped and strung

out among local joggers,

relaxed as the ducks on the reflecting

pool, or the pigeons on Lincoln's

stone hair - at home, in

childish shorts, between parents.

II.

At Union Station the way to the train is elegant.

Begin with lunch at 'America': wine of California,

pork from the belly of the country, chilis from the mountain

desert. I warn you the mashed potatoes are from my

grandmother's table: heavy, gravied. Fatten

your imagination of my broad country. Eat up.

There is room for appetite. Hunger is the best introduction

to plenty. Angels are irrelevant where there is so much

space to achieve one's own solitude, own

awareness of emptiness and distance. Find your train.

Log Dancer

When I was about to sleep the planner's

retreat came to the attention of darkness

She was leaving the pillow to the one without future

who gladly and soon took also morning

Now the planner steals her sleep asking

if she really believes the moment

Reminding her of grammar's and logic's

structures and the suggestive linearity

Of narrative but both are relieved that

the one who recognizes joy is ascendant

II.

Her intuition perceives the

heft, proportions, texture,

arrangement of our inner

elements - points of balance

if at rest, compensatory

shiftings if not. Her passion

appraises feeling's small

change, short change, dark

squirming, long keeping, deep

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