Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems, 1965-2003

Once

The Very Bad Horse The very bad horse doesn’t budge until the pain penetrates to the marrow of its bones. —The Buddha My first own home my big green “bed-sit” in London, in 1956 double bed green spread sixpence coin-fed gas fire London fog huge little footsteps tok tok tok I knew three people and three more at work I knew you I felt around in the dark for Life and you I picked myself up by the hair four stories up and dropped me —Still I wouldn’t budge. Once Once there was a woodcutter, when he asked me to marry him the woman in the grocery store said You look like you lost your last friend. First love! When we broke up it was as if the last egg in the house got dropped on the broken floor. This world is everywhere! the woman said, You won’t go unsampled! new poems 9 ...