Is It Not The Play Of The

There Is A Grace Of Life Which Is Still Yours, My Dear Europe.

I Defer To All These Other American Poets Who, For Some Reason, I Both Envy And Admire.

Not One Death But Many, Not Accumulation But Change, The Feed-back Proves, The Feed-back Is The Law

There Are No Hierarchies, No Infinite, No Such Many As Mass, There Are Only/ Eyes In All Heads,/ To Be Looked Out Of.

Dead, Hung Up Indoors, The Kingfisher Will Not Indicate A Favoring Wind, Or Avert The Thunderbolt.