Beryl

Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
But when, on the timepieces that we call
Escapees from the cold work of living,
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
And I would like
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
to restaurants for Early Bird Specials.
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent�
Of meaning like these�the world created by
Allowing me to let your picture form and wake
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
Among us, only Alberti, then Sangallo,
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
Left and right, and far ahead in the dusk.
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
Oh you builders,
Oh you builders,