WATCH

2 0 Y W A T C H J A M E S R I C H A R D S O N Now the wind bends the train horn around, so that it seems to be coming for me through the trackless woods. It is natural, I am told, to wake like this for two hours in the middle of the night where there is no one, though it seems all who have ever talked to the moon can hear. Ten thousand sorrows, Du Fu? The short way of saying on such a night ten thousand tributaries feed the one lake of darkness. On such a night we could be the same: loose sleeves, warm cup, the same wars everywhere and one page under lamplight that does not reach to the wall. ...