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And hurrying forward.... All of it equally
In this lovely, momentary light,
thinks a bent old man
Taking it in, who just then, with a start
At the unlikeliness of it, separately
Becomes aware that he has been feeling
Like a boy this whole day. Which has not happened
he refl ects. Wouldn't expect it to again.
Late December, 1992
the clubman
Happy to fi nd myself among
This crowd of ancient commonplaces,
White-eyebrowed ruddy faces,
Such company as I shunned when young;
And now we chat on terms
Experience we've squeaked through confi rms,
And watch for the secret glinting in each other's eyes
(Euripides let it out), that wisdom isn't wise.
the morning of glenn gould's funeral
Hearing him now on the car stereo --
That's as he wished it when alive --
I look for browsing deer, and slow
For the tight down-curves as I drive
Through deep oak shadows
Over the back way to Ojai.
The October day burns quiet bright and dry
In the brown meadows.
The thing he's playing's a rocky-riffl
ed clear
Mountain stream of a piece by Bach: