a list of instructions

found in my Aunt (Bunty)'s effects. I never knew she was such a list writer - this was not a standard list - this is instructions

1. Pull blank
2. small tag
3 big tag
4. 1 minute peel off
knob light bright for devova



a drawing on a paper cup that I have now flattened out. I was on a train with my EE pencil....


the cold enlivens me

the sparkling dryness, the stars at night

red frost


walking through gates and doors



Excerpts from “Gravel” in the book The Leaf and The Cloud

by Mary Oliver

Death, whoever and whatever you are, tallest king of
tall kings, grant me these wishes: unstring my bones;
let me be not one thing but all things, and wondrously
scattered; shake me free from my name. Let the wind, and
the wildflowers, and the catbird never know it. Let
time loosen me like the bead of a flower from its wrappings
of leaves. Let me begin the changes, let me—

The gravels of the world,
the stones of the world
are in their proper places.

Everything is participate.
Everything is a part of the world
 we can see, taste, tickle, touch, hold onto,

and then it is dust.
Dust at last.
Dust and gravel.

Goodbye to the goldfinches
in their silver baskets.

Goodbye to the moon uprising in the east.
Goodbye to the going forth, and coming home.
Goodbye to the going forth, and holding on, and worrying.
Goodbye to the engine of breath.

The knee sings its anguish.
The ears fill with the sound of ringing water.
The muscles of the eyes pull toward sleep.

up the hill,
like a thicket of white flowers,
forever is coming.


It is the nature of stone
to be satisfied.
It is the nature of water
to want to be somewhere else.

Everywhere we look:
the sweet guttural swill of the water
Everywhere we look:
the stone, basking in the sun,

or offering itself
to the golden lichen.

Listen, I don’t think we’re going to rise
in gauze and halos.
Maybe as grass, and slowly.
Maybe as the long-leaved, beautiful grass


I look up
into the faces of the stars,
into their deep silence.

This the poem of goodbye.
And this is the poem of don’t know.

My hands touch the lilies
then withdraw;

my hands touch the blue iris
then withdraw;

and I say, not easily but carefully—
the words round in the mouth, crisp on the tongue—

dirt, mud, stars, water— I know you as if you were myself.

How could I be afraid?


The Leaf and The Cloud is really one long 50 page poem.