by A.R. Ammons

You came to see me one day and
as usual in such matters

things grew significant–
what you believed, the way you

turned or leaned: when
you left, our area tilted, a

tile, and whatever
opposes desolation slid away.


by A.R. Ammons

Radiance comes from
on high and, staying,
sends down silk
lines to the flopping
marionette, me, but
love comes from
under the ruins and
sends the lumber up
limber into leaf that
touches so high it nearly
puts out the radiance