Not they not anything not even He
Stairs in the branches climbing the clouds
You can’t find the number or the street or the name
of the blue roads traced by roof corners and by
straight lines of balconies
But the wall stretches from the door to the ramp that
mounts swiftly without stirring
The same motion makes us bend toward smoke that
distorts stiff houses in the foreground
And my gaze falls from on high over the city where
streets all conform to the same pattern
Sky hangs crooked over the water
We have to be ready for anything
At this still untidy point of the horizon
A magnetic steeple draws a dark bird wheeling with
night
A cloud passes a little lower and an airplane as
lithe as a wave and a horse leaps noiselessly
And men in hiding animals that gaze the drooping
trees even stones come asunder
Then the huge bird flies off once more
Swollen with the wind
His wings wounded by stars
LOVE POEMS
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