Poets

lights in the twilight, lights of Solvay over the expanse of frozen snow-covered lake, orange lights of the refineries,

Coming home with the last load I ride standing on the wagon tongue, behind the tractor in hot exhaust, lank with sweat,

First, the self. Then, the observing self. The self that acts and the self that watches. This The starting point, the place where the mind begins, Whether the mind of an individual or