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34 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 1983
The shut inch lively as pin grafting
leads back to the gift shop, at a loss
for two-ply particles
set callow,
set bland and clean, wailing as when
to wait is block for scatter.
As what next if you can’t, silent fire
dumped in a skip and sun boiling over
the sack race. […]
From the skip there is honey and bent metal,
romantic on trade plate: PUT SKIP EDIT,
PUT SKIP DATA, the control flow structure
demands a check that subscripts do not exceed
array dimensions.
It is not quite a cabin, but (in local speech)
a shield, in the elbow of upland water,
the sod roof almost gone but just under
its scar a rough opening: it is, in first
sight, the oval window. Last light foams
at this crest.
As they parted, she heard his horse cry out,
by the rustic lodge in a flurry of snow.
A child’s joy, a toy with a snowstorm,
flakes settling in white prisms, to slide
to a stop. The flask is without frame,
metaldehyde safe in cold store. There
is a snow-down on that sand hillock,
the stars are snowing, do you see it there:
bright moonlight whitens the pear blossom.
You listen out by the oval window, as
calm waves flow onward to the horizon.
Pear blossoms drift through this garden,
across the watcher's vantage clouded
by smoke from inside the hut. Tunnel
vision as she watches for his return,
face and flower shining each upon the other.
So these did turn, return, advance,
drawn back by doubt, put on by love.
Sort and merge, there is burning along
this frame…