I give away all that I am frame moments that remain rolled straight from brown eyes I know charms turn the crowd to action another silent chill says alone is a way-station to form
" ... guages lines of a Flemish horse hauling beer" Briggflatts, part 2 I was a grad student in 1967 when Basil Bunting, then 67, came to teach at our school. It was Hugh Kenner, the author of The Pound Era, who had invited the poet to Santa Barbara.
In a siren voice the months are singing "Mood Indigo" I must wash their aftertaste down with a quart of Lethe for all the optimism I lost this winter. On shelves the alphabetical friction of names irritates. I move letters