I'll figure something out.
I'll have coffee in _Everybody's Bake Shop; _
I'll write Varve and Finn,
tell them I love them,
tell them sweet Hawaii
going to be our new home.
Honolulu
Bus Stop
14, eyes of a deer
in bamboo.
16, heavier, going to school
without her books.
King Street
Honolulu
For Rob
Handsome Rob.
Half the women hate you;
the other half
will give you anything.
Deep in Nam:
your buddy shot, tracheotomy.
"He died happy," you told me,
"he believed I was going to
save him."
Perhaps he knew
he would lie in your arms
forever.
Too Big
Listening to Schubert
while Great-Aunt Hannah
embroiders on the wall,
and darkness closes--
what have we come to?
We've gone wrong,
too big
to find our way by song,
light
falling on a face
and handkerchief,
illumination
in the manner
of Rembrandt.
Peter's Answer
Little Blue Heron, young, still white,
by the north causeway bridge--
stick legs, too thin
for the swelling body,
the visual weight of feathers,
stepping slowly in shallow water,
long toes trailing limply, then
extending, three splayed forward,
one back.
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