Take me as I drive alone through the dark countryside. As the strong means clear a path, picking out fences, weeds, late flowering trees, everything that streams back into the past without sound, I smell the grass and the rich chemical sleep of the fields. An open moon sails above, and a…

Inside the veins there are navies setting forth, Tiny explosions at the water lines, And seagulls weaving in the wind of the salty blood. It is the morning. The country has slept the whole winter. Window seats were covered with fur skins, the yard was full Of stiff dogs, and hands that…