Beautiful Wreckage
What if I didn’t shoot the old lady
running away from our patrol,
or the old man in the back of the head, . . .
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Becoming a Redwood
Stand in a field long enough, and the sounds
start up again. The crickets, the invisible
toad who claims that change is possible, . . .
Before the Birth of One of Her Children
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joyes attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, . . .
Beginning
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still. . . .
Bells for John Whiteside’s Daughter
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study . . .
Bent to the Earth
They had hit Ruben
with the high beams, had blinded
him so that the van . . .
Bereavement
Whose was that gentle voice, that, whispering sweet,
Promised methought long days of bliss sincere!
Soothing it stole on my deluded ear, . . .
The Birth of John Henry
The night John Henry is born an ax
of lightning splits the sky,
and a hammer of thunder pounds the earth, . . .
A Birthday
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree . . .
Birthday Poem
First light of day in Mississippi
son of laborer & of house wife
it says so on the official photostat . . .