Wednesday, April 30, 2008


the day the music died

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Sweet Simples

The sweet simples of sanity:
My love,
when you went away, I doted on the dance
of dust in sunbeams; I lived by the placement
of spoons; the arrangement of rooms; the presence
of spools and needles and pins and threads that kept me
walking through days and space without you.

We were the simplest of simples:
blood reds, bone whites, mud browns.

Sweet solid simples! Grain of wood
on old tables; the tiny rims of thimbles;
melted- down candles;
jars of Indian head nickels.

O simple simple simples.