Earliest morning, switching all the tracks that cross the sky from cinder star to star,       coupling the ends of streets       to trains of light, now draw us into daylight in…

The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept…

Oh, but it is dirty! —‘this little filling station, oil-soaked, oil-permeated to a disturbing, over-all black translucency. Be careful with that match! Father wears a dirty, oil-soaked monkey suit that…

I A washing hangs upon the line,     but it’s not mine. None of the things that I can see     belong to me. The neighbors got a radio with an aerial;…

About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or…

This is the night mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order, Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl…

As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover…

I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-Second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over…

(From ‘Two Songs’) Ever since observation taught me temptation Is a matter of timing, I’ve tried To clothe my fiction in up-to-date diction, The contemporary jargon of Pride.      I can…

(From ‘Twelve Songs’) XII Some say that love’s a little boy, And some say it’s a bird, Some say it makes the world go round, And some say that’s absurd,…