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dec. 19, 1975
A malformed and much sophisticated world
it is, and I in my fi ftieth winter of it
with a few ordinary things known, matters of doing,
matters of desire, and there's the full moon
in the workshop window again,
with its old silent abruptness, light
held cleanly inside its fi rm rim,
lifting so clear and cold
over the wintering poplars -- scrawny
columns of brush upfountaining
through how many years? over
the worn and frozen lawn, grove
and grass burning white together
the study window
All tired out in the morning,
yeah, and the moon there, old
in the midmorning sky, white
and worn away on one side
so thin, the sky shows through,
in the stillness above the crisp
snow peaks of the winter mountains.
march 16, 1976
Home for the convalescence, stepping
Out on the patio, the sun
Shining at full strength on me,
And there, aslant in the shadow,
Is our young maple, that had been