“Always Be Closing,” Liam told us— abc of real estate, used cars, and poetry. Liam the dandy loved Brooks Brothers shirts, double-breasted suits, bespoke shoes, and linen jackets. On the day Liam and Tree married in our backyard, Liam and I wore Chuck’s burgundy boho-prep high-tops that Liam bought on Fifth Avenue.
Are you shaken, are you stirred By a whisper of love, Spellbound to a word Does Time cease to move, Till her calm grey eye Expands to a sky And the clouds of her hair Like storms go by?
Then the lips that you have kissed Turn to frost and fire, And a white-steaming mist Obscures desire: So back to their birth Fade water, air, earth,
Here at the seashore they use the clouds over & over again, like the rented animals in Aïda. In the late morning the land breeze turns and now the extras are driving all the white elephants the other way. What language are these children shouting in? He is lying on the beach listening.
This seablue fir that rode the mountain storm Is swaddled here in splints of tin to die. Sofas around in chubby velvet swarm; Onlooking cabinets glitter with flat eye; Here lacquer in the branches runs like rain And resin of treasure starts from every vein.
Light is a dancer here and cannot rest. No tanagers or jays are half so bright
And now the green household is dark. The half-moon completely is shining On the earth-lighted tops of the trees. To be dead, a house must be still. The floor and the walls wave me slowly; I am deep in them over my head. The needles and pine cones about me
The autumn shade is thin. Grey leaves lie faint Where they will lie, and, where the thick green was, Light stands up, like a presence, to the sky. The trees seem merely shadows of its age. From off the hill, I hear the logging crew, The furious and indifferent saw, the slow Response of heavy pine; and I recall
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