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We wore each other out today
the sun and I
working in the vineyard.
The sun dropped behind the mountain
exhausted, red,
and burning hot
I was left alone.
We were both
a little overheated
today,
the…
My day—
Is punctured like a sieve,
And ridiculed like a whim.
May winter whiteness blossom,
May autumns turn gray,
May summers whistle—
Become nightingales.
When a rye-wind
Would have twisted my…
I am a stranger.
Since no one dares approach me
I would be girded with towers
That wear their steep and stone-gray caps
Aloft in clouds.
The brazen key you will not find
That locks the musty…