I met Emily Dickinson down on Grafton Street. / On a Saturday afternoon, there was hardly room / to sneeze. When I first saw her, I was fascinated / by her hair, tied back in a bun. I just stood / ...
She put her small nose, pierced with a pearl, / To the open gramophone of the flowers, / One then the other, breathing both in, / Before getting up and walking casually / ...
It is the commerce of farmers with hands in their pockets. / It is used by old wives / and the things they’ve known not having. / The stains in his pants are scattered language, / ...