This poem is taken from PN Review 65, Volume 15 Number 3, January - February 1989.
Five PoemsZurich's Cloud Cave
here the one-eyed would
more than blind you -
light, on the rocks,
as in the rubble,
the shards still speak.
Bowed to the darkness,
now the days come broken
like the families
of foreign workers, sheep
crop what's left of the light,
no one escapes the blood feast.
Pastoral
Corn-brake, reed flute,
swamp or field, the path still
dirt, rock and root,
and the river that spreads
...
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