February 2009

As he spoke we could hear, ever more loudly, the noise   
Of the burning fires; the flood of flames was coming   
Nearer and nearer. “My father, let me take you   
Upon my shoulders and carry you with me.   
The burden will be easy. Whatever...

Wearing a tawny lion pelt upon   
My spindly shoulders I carry both of them,   
My father and my mother, into the darkness,   
My father hoarsely singing, “They are there!”   
—The glimmer of something that is glimmering there—   
“I see the glow of weapons in the...

He was touched or he touched or   
she did and was, or they were   
and would. Or the room could, its   
three doors, two windows or   

the house on a slant touching,   
touched by the drift down street, cars   
pressing quick or slowing. All along   
the...