Uninvited
Upstairs lived
Walking around the room
Walking blindly
We are the little people
We have lost our voices
We move house tomorrow
We pass the orange-groves
We walk alone on our roots
Weather-beaten
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain
What could be less verbal
What is it about you
Where we find ourselves
Write the history
Yellow with pears, and full
You landed on the moon this afternoon
You, painting
Your pictures speak to me, but not to you
Your presence overflows
Your reliefs
Your stillness brings back memories of stone
Zhivago
13
101
99
21
42
29
39
26
59
12
104
136
72
119
68
73
42
88
16
50
82
14
91
172
european hours: collected poems
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