Prospect

Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.

Sharded in black, like beetles, Frail as antique One breath might shiver to bits, The old women creep out

First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wearA glass eye, false teeth or a crutch, A brace or a hook, Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again.(I think I made you up inside my head.)The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all…

Empty, I echo to the least footfall, Museum without statues, grand with pillars, porticoes, rotundas. In my courtyard a fountain leaps and sinks back into itself

Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head—God-ball,

(Rock Lake, Canada)In this country there is neither measure nor To redress the dominance of rocks and woods, The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.