Across the streetAmerica is putting togetheranother Federal Building.The Wisconsin Horselooks through the chainlink fence.He turns and tells me with his eyes.
I discover Marge Piercyin a poetry newspaper.Her thick sensual lipsare about to moveupon the earth.I wonder if her dark eyesare always seeingbeyond the farthest ridge.Her words slant into me and resonateand will echofor a long time.For centuries maybe.
I don't think the sky will fall today,but I need a few surprises badly.
