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in the train station at last asleep
(all gone down to grays—sky
—uniforms—the platform itself
and farmers back from the war
who won’t know their fields)—1943
—a gypsy father reaches sure to touch
his daughter’s face (where is she—
that turn in the trees)—bine bine—
bine copil—his fingers recalling
some landscape lost now to the dark—
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Early Christianity, fragment by fragment
How might God bless a divided America?
The buddy-cop feminist detective series I didn’t know I needed
In praise of church musicians
