«He arrived back, a blue glacier, / Those nights from Tamara, / And then and again his wings marked / Where whir and nightmare should end. He did not sob, did not bind up / The exposed lash-striped scars. / His slab has survived beyond / The fence of a Georgian church. How strange that ...»
«Later on, there was the loft with hay / And it smelled like a wine cork / While August ran out of days / And weeds took over like the tropics. In the grass, on the sorrel, beads / Of sullen diamonds hung, / Chilling the taste-buds / Reminding of Riesling. September made headlines / D...»
«To Love, — to leave, — with the thunder not ceasing, / Trampled by boredom not even knowing the boot’s tread, / Tripping over a hedgehog, and then, for good, repaying / The cowberry’s evil with a gossamer’s web. To drink from the bough while the face / Recoils from Prussian blue l...»
«Bursting himself through bushes, as if from the snare / Of Margarete’s tight hot lips of purple, / While the whites of her eyes stared, / Curled, flicked, grew firm, shone like a nightingale. It was like the smell from grass. Like mercury / Hanging in the mad rain between bird-cherry tree...»