Little by Little Let nothing be too big or small to say or see. Over the ribbon of winter river creeps the sun. The pigeon preening on the synagogue wall ruffles its wings and tucks its head back down. The daily touch of hands by gradual degrees turns white to black. And there are other signs of tender wear.
Cats softly rub their chins on edges they make dingy.
Slow concavities, step by step, hollow out the hardest granite stair. Such are the markings I sit down to make. So that the lesson of the broken world needs to be taught remedially to us big oafs who saw ourselves in surfaces that never seemed to tremble. Visions from which they scrupulously shaded our infant eyes light up belatedly. But wait, absence is the other side of love.