Draperies: and some folds
bunch together. A tired merchant
tugs them across a whole
window to hide from retail.
On that day rain came straight
down then wind drove it
into mountains like harp-string
nails. We grew desperate for sun.
Was the wall in that baked town
painted white at first, with black
stripes added later? Or black
first, white lines later?
From my roasting room across
the street, I watched black-and-
white TV. It was a documentary
on geometric zebras.
Video/reading of Winters' short poem. Winters (1900-1968) taught for many years at Stanford University. He was an independent figure in Modern poetry.
39-second recording/video of the short lyric poem, "Like the Touch of Rain," by Edward Thomas (1878-1917), English/Welsh poet:
(revised)
They're painters on skates
who brush and dab a cold canvas
they whirl and glide on.
They're sleep-walkers
in pajamas, wandering
on a bright dream's stage--
everyone else in darkness,
looking on, transfixed.
Hornets and wasps
in snarling squads,
swarm out of the nest--
sent mad by one
black fly gliding among
them, a dark dot
playing dead, then jetting off.
