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And sprightly danced away Through Jacksontown. Which is a place I know, One where I got picked up A few shrunk years ago By a good cop. Believe it, Lord, or not. Don't ask me who he was. I speak of flat defeat In a flat voice. I have gone forward with Some, a few lonely some. They have fallen to death. I die with them. Lord, I have loved Thy cursed, The beauty of Thy house: Come down. Come down. Why dost Thou hide thy face? OUTSIDE FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car, I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly. No wind. Beyond town, three heavy white horses Wade all the way to their shoulders In a silo shadow. Suddenly the freight car lurches. The door slams back, a man with a flashlight Calls me good evening. I nod as I write good evening, lonely And sick for home. 150 ...

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