June 2005

I think you must contrive to turn this stone
                              on your spirit to lightness.

                   ...

Sometimes there was nowhere else to put the snow,
so they'd plow up huge piles in people's yards,
a reminder that everyone had some kind of trouble.
Everyone was somewhat pure.

Forgiveness then was a lot like...

We warbled on the muddy banks
and waded up to our throats in the Delaware River,

talking about Ovid washing himself in the Black Sea
and Paul Celan floating face down in the Seine.

We swam arm over arm through the green silt
and coasted...