The Cleft
Long past that moment,
I might guess when it was,
but strangely I have no
Long past that moment,
I might guess when it was,
but strangely I have no
It was a pretty boat, tied to the pier,
greeting a city with streets of water,
the great gold griffin of its tall smokestack
Measuring out the Jack
Daniels at I : 25,
closing the cupboard;
On the farm this had been the hour
Persimmon leaves rang like iron
Or the sound of a screendoor slamming
Like a cavalry charging, productive loins
in parallel
Straddle baby carriages;