background image
fi nished the fi nal verse, van-
ished in the blank below it:
he'll reappear only on
the next page (not written yet).
small song
"Turn on the hose," I say.
I kneel down on my lawn
To watch the water play.
At the depression where
The tree is set, it fi lls,
Transvisible as the air,
To level, tentative,
Then, trembling, overbreaks.
Its boundaries always give
Where the clear instants slow.
I stand, walk toward my house.
Shade slips. Place is afl ow.
two photographs of an old poet
Light and the features run together.
Though the dark eyes are clear
The rest of the face is neither one nor other.
Entry of fl esh by atmosphere.
You can just make out what lines will come
As time confi rms each feature;