«I didn’t know you when you were in your full glory, / I only saw your fiery ascent, / But, maybe, today I have the right / To remember that day from years ago. / How sounds braced the lines of your poetry / With voices like we’d never heard... / Your young hands didn’t rest, / An...»
«Just now I smeared the map of the daily grind, / splashing paint out of a glass; / I revealed the sharp cheek-bones of the ocean / on a platter of jellied meat. / I read the summons of new lips / on the scales of a tin fish. / And you / could you / play a nocturne / on a drain-pipe...»
«I’ll sew myself a pair of black trousers / from the velvet of my voice. / A yellow smock from three yards of sunset. / I’ll saunter along the Nevsky Prospect of the world, / along its polished strips, / with the step of Don Juan and a fop. Let the earth, gone to seed from neglect, ye...»
«A / street. / Mastiff / faces / sharp- / er / than years. O- / ver / iron horses / the first cubes leapt / from the windows of running houses. / Swans of bell necks / curve themselves in nooses of cables! / In the sky a cartoon giraffe is about / to show off motley rusty ...»