Three Poems

Invisible Cities, Redux

Italo Calvino has invisible cities and I recommend

them. What could be better than traveling the universe
and finding extraterrestrial versions of Venice?

I go out in the early morning rain in Galway, Ireland,
and tap the cobblestones with my white stick.

Immediately I get lost.

On my left there is a river.

On my right there is a window shutter making a kind of
funereal percussion.

“Songs of the Earth,” I think.

I am not unique.

I stand beneath the shutter and weep.

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