(at the rocks)
Let us count the morning air with
the coating of all we've missed.
Things past and lost through
all these ages : though the robin
makes its passage and we see its
quickened run, though the small
red fox counts commerce in the
open field, 'cross-running at its
peril the prison'd roadway
Here, here is where the spacecraft
landed; well, the legend says. The
people who made witness are now
all dead and gone - they stayed for
years just gaping, lost amid their
reveries of reporters and magazine
people. Once I even saw a fashion-
shoot take place over by the rocks.
Emaciated, charcoal'd girls grouped,
seeking stylish shelter there; I wished
right then the craft would land again.
I said to myself, 'their capes and flying
wraps should take them somewhere
far away. Like stars, like diamonds,
like decimated broods of cosmic dust.'