A happy birthdaythis evening, I sat by an open windowand read till the light was gone and the bookwas no more than a part of the darkness.I could easily have switched on a lamp, but I wanted to ride the day down into night, to sit alone, and smooth the unreadable pagewith the pale gray ghost of my hand
Mother (fragment).. You asked me if I would be sad when it happenedand I am sad. But the iris I moved from your housenow hold in the dusty dry fists of their rootsgreen knives and forks as if waiting for dinner, as if spring were a feast. I thank you for that. Were it not for the way you taught me to lookat the world, to see the life at play in everything, I would have to be lonely forever.