It Couldn’t Be Done
Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one . . .
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It Isn’t Me
It isn’t me, he’d say,
stepping out of a landscape
that offered, he’d thought, the backdrop . . .
It's the Little Towns I Like
It’s the little towns I like
with their little mills making ratchets
and stanchions, elastic web, . . .
It sifts from Leaden Sieves - (291)
It sifts from Leaden Sieves -
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool . . .
It was not Death, for I stood up, (355)
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells . . .
It would be neat if with the New Year
It would be neat if with the New Year
I could leave my loneliness behind with the old year.
My leathery loneliness an old pair of work boots . . .
