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

Friend

Friend Friend I need your hand every morning but anger and beauty and hope these roses make one rose. Friend I need a hand every evening but anger and hope and beauty are three roses that make one rose. Let’s fix our bed it’s in splinters and I want to stay all year. Let’s fix our bed it’s in splinters and I want to stay all year. Did you hear what that woman on Grafton Street was saying? You won’t be killed today. We don’t even know we’re born. Homesick Leonardo’s man in the circle, but a woman, the circle adrift in the middle of the lake: cross through the line someone, salmon or hawk. The rowboat drifts on this northern evening’s midnight line of light, green lip reflecting lip, and I float in it, salt, and breath, and light, hawk and salmon and I . . . 220 door in the mountain ...