But for us the road unfurls itself, we don’t stop walking, we know there is far to go.

The poem has a social effect of some kind whether or not the poet wills it to have. It has a kenetic force, it sets in motion…elements in the reader that would otherwise remain stagnant.

Trying to remember old dreams. A voice. Who came in.And meanwhile the rain, all day, all evening,quiet steady sound. Before it grew too darkwatched the blue iris leaning under the rain,the flame of the poppies...

Wear scarlet! Tear the green lemonsoff the tree! I don’t wantto forget who I am, what has burned in me,and hang limp and clean, an empty dress –

I thought I was growing wings—it was a cocoon.I thought, now is the time to stepinto the fire—it was deep water.Eschatology is a word I learnedas a child: the study of Last Things;facing my mirror—no...

The yellow moon dreamilytipping buttons of lightdown among the leaves. Marimba,marimba – from beyond theblack street.Somebody dancing,somebodygetting the helloutta here. Shadows of catsweave round the treetrunks,the exposed knotty roots.(“Scenes from the Life of the Peppertrees”)

I am, a shadowthat grows longer as the sunmoves, drawn outon a thread of wonder.If I bear burdensthey begin to be rememberedas gifts, goods, a basketof bread that hurtsmy shoulders but closes mein fragrance. I...

Yes, he is here in thisopen field, in sunlight, amongthe few young trees set outto modify the bare facts–he’s here, but onlybecause we are here.When we go, he goes with usto be your hands that...

In the dark I rest,unready for the light which dawnsday after day,eager to be shared.Black silk, shelter me.I needmore of the night before I openeyes and heartto illumination. I must stillgrow in the dark like...

There’s in my mind a…turbulent moon-ridden girlor old woman, or both,dressed in opals and rags, feathersand torn taffeta,who knows strange songsbut she is not kind.

Two girls discover the secret of lifein a sudden line of poetry.