From a notebook, 1982, Helsinki

After so much is said and the candles are low…

I’m no match for the godless nights
And if there are gods I’m no match for them either
I build a fence badly, tear it down after dark

**

I used to love Wallace Stevens
I was young

**

Thus the dog bursts into my poem
Follows me home

A mild wind follows the dog

**

Up river where a stand of birches leans
Walking with a spent candle in my coat

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s