For JW, who once rode a horse into an electric fence.
I have finally made myself happy,
Watching a bird land
On a wooden lamp.
There's a writing desk with some papers feathered across the top,
Which--and beneath its shadow,
Lies a sleeping brown dog.
I have achieved my own variable record--and the riches in
The window are all wan and hungry to me.
I need never ache to join the half-blind path of the others,
Nor to be young like before.