OCCUPANT
The sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver? The only...

A CRITIC
Pick up your socks. Clean the house once in a while. Go to the dentist. ...

HISTORIAN
Piles and piles of books, boxes of documents, photographs, bones, shreds of clothes...

YOU WHO KNOW
I was just enough bigger that I could wrestle you into the clean straw of the mow...

GRIFFY LAKE
I spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell...

(AGAINST SILENCE)

In every direction
out of yourself
the page is scrambled.
While you work
blue shadows trace
across the pasture 
huge outlines of trees.
Your arm is weakened by labor
your fingers darken
giving everything.

And it is necessary
when words fail
and syllables buzz
around your brain
with the arrogant
persistence of flies
to be swift and savage
catching them.