And some time make the time to drive out west ( Read more... )

Punishment

I can feel the tug
Of the halter at the nape
Of her neck, the wind
On her naked front.
It blows her nipples
To amber beads,
It shakes the frail rigging
Of her ribs.
I can see her drowned
Body in the bog,
The weighing stone,
The floating rods and boughs.
Under which at first
She was a barked sapling
That is dug up
Oak-bone, brain-firkin:
Her shaved head
( Read more... )

They are riding away from whatever might have been ( Read more... )

The piper coming from far away is you ( Read more... )