I run and think of running here the
I saw a ballpoint pen, 113
I see my bones lie white, 159
Item in the paper, 6
It is a young oak tree and a stone, 16
It is something unhuman in us, 96
It lies in a glass case, 388
It was in early middle age, 236
Just ahead of us they run..., 20
Just before hitting the turn, 161
Just in time for the fog arriving, 227
Just the one branch lifts, 22
Last class goes overtime, there's some
Last night I lay awake, 149
Let it go on, he says, 142
Life's uneventful, and while we were
Light fading and the marsh, 73
Like you I have shunned unrest, 275
Literature? We can shove it, 63
Look at me here. I stand, 278
Low dark cloud-cover and ocean make
Months pass and still, 158
Moon'll be rising. There's a few people
More fog..., 179
Never mind now, I am delighted, 174
Now it's been found, 19
...now that the evening star is bringing
O how much is missin, 62
Oh, we will get out of here, 175
Oh you that are the saint, 132
Once again silence, vagueness..., 401
One fi nds that one, 63
One for the laments our time begets, 66
On the far side of the crossing, 10
On the fi rst page, review of Brecht by
Out of an occasional delight, 161
Out of his mail, which was heavy, 43
Out to mail a letter, 66
Part of the thin shadow, 19
Patch of wet sand there, 94