The Desolate Field
Vast and grey, the sky
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
are vast and grey and—
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
My head is in the air
but who am I .
.
.
?
—and my heart stops amazed
at the thought of love
vast and grey
yearning silently over me.
Poem by
William Carlos (WCW) Williams
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