THE LUNAR HOUR A soft well of light rises around me, Fed by a day, faraway day, lit up. A ghost breezily casts its image. A moon spills through my corridor. I open this door, and then My foot meets something soft. Then a cat hisses at me, Which I kicked in the dark. From her slit eyes burst this wild light of enmity Refracted from outer space. As she assumes the look of a kitten, She answers to my face likewise. I raise my knotted walking stick With a ponderously magi

THE MARIONETTES We love our slender puppets so much —Their white faces are all alone Atop the bodies, pious in their fragility— And we...