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on Park Avenue after dark
when they ought to be home in bed?
Well,
that's the way it is with me somehow.
TO A SOLITARY DISCIPLE
Rather notice, mon cher,
that the moon is
tilted above
the point of the steeple
than that its color
is shell-pink.
Rather observe
that it is early morning
than that the sky
is smooth
as a turquoise.
Rather grasp
how the dark
converging lines
of the steeple
meet at the pinnacle—
perceive how
its little ornament
tries to stop them—
[67]
