In
When we first heard from blocks away
the fog truck’s blustery roar,
we dropped our toys, leapt from our meals, . . .
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In a Dark Time
In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood— . . .
In a London Drawingroom
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
For view there are the houses opposite
Cutting the sky with one long line of wall . . .
In the Desert
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
. . .
[in Just-]
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little . . .
In My Craft or Sullen Art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages . . .
In Praise of My Bed
At last I can be with you!
The grinding hours
since I left your side! . . .
In Praise of Pain
A brilliance takes up residence in flaws—
a brilliance all the unchipped faces of design
refuse. The wine collects its starlets . . .
Incident
Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean . . .
Inside Out
I walk the purple carpet into your eye
carrying the silver butter server
but a truck rumbles by, . . .
