1 To William ...When sun wipes shadows off your face, But snow fills up your laughing mouth, You're going north Though going south, Where you forget your name, craft, craze -- Your checkered jacket And cigar, Your theatre of illusive joys, Your silence Loaded with your words (The bullets never Shooting out), The language game of useless lies, Your want to touch with hands And mouth, When you approach Antarctic south With walls of glass, With walls of ice...


Confined Verse
Collected Poems