Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Name of the Woods We're Lost In


Long ripening till another
Day poor pay moves away
A flaw, coming all that way
Holds itself in cool nothing
Wonder is like that, too.

Heaven seems to meet you
In an immense field an idea
Neither pleasant nor a bore
You are back from the watering rain
Where you pay for shade and lay
In life, in earth, in wonder
All matter gone
The hand accepts
The book alive and poor,

Another year having fallen by the roadside.

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