Seasonal Works with Letters on Fire

Imperishable Longing to Be with Others

I M P E R I S H A B L E L O N G I N G T O B E W I T H O T H E R S at the rushing forth in streets—, of squares, where you’ve been, with pewter imports— star-shaped stones, shops, ships stalled in the harbor—; [(where they danced who had been jailed—)] the tyrant shouting to his thugs firing on his own—from the wall In this hour, with your coffee, specks of cinnamon, scarves hung from architraves, women crossing ridged water of this chaos advanced hope, advanced grief stones from towers near burning sand . . . Once we were with you— not to intervene; in that range of action, you danced— who had been jailed— now ache at the rushing forth— the poet’s soul curved fire lip of sun where you crouched under arches; how it is now—for you, to ask the question F O R T H E P O E T S O F L I B Y A , F O R A E 4 4 ...