Index of First Lines

• Note to reader: Numbers indicate poem numbers.
• All that is left 10
• Another burial, never the last, 92
• At Edison Station I remember 29
• Bury me in the boneyard of the stars 59
• Civility is a dream 30
• Could the worm 34
• Dreams lie at angles to the sun 1
• Dreamwork is an oxymoron 89
• Dreamwork is the sum 3
• Election 13
• ‘Freud was wrong,’ he told me, 88
• Gardens are more interesting than dreams 5
• He built a house 27
• He considered his poems 77
• He moves again 53
• He saw the grass bend 55
• He searched in the lane 85
• How are theories like dreams? 79
• How history forgot that a Black woman 32
• How I forgot that my soapbox was broken 33
• I could not choose the choice lyric 39
• I have wandered many places 97
• In the quiet of this circle 66
• In this lifeworld 43
• I would write a homage to Henry Adams 61
• Lamentation of the ur-world 44
• Life is long, lives are short 47
• Lilac and sun 31
• ‘Listen carefully,’ a poster commands 24
• Meditations 19
• My daughter yearns for sleep 81
• My great aunt sat at her window 93
• My son doesn’t like to go to sleep 80
• No authority resides 48
• Not even Narcissus 46
• Not to turn 87
• On the frontier poetry is a sign 78
• Perilous these night terrors 40
• Rage against what time 86
• Readers die like poets 8
• Reality is hard to corner 26
• ‘Remember me,’ he said 45
• She sought out the fire 64
• Smoke and snow blow slowly 2
• Some day I will write an elegy to Roger Conant 35
• Someone conducts a deal 25
• Something futile: crating 52
• Stranded, the forest of night 49
• The beautiful ecstasy of words 98
• The blue of this pen is almost a sky 90
• The commuter lot lies vacant: the markets 18
• The crushed rock mounts against the chain-link fence 36
• The distance from New Haven to Princeton 23
• The dream names of my ancestors 62
• The elders are all dead 95
• The elms on a cloudy night 57
• The ephemera of my flesh 9
• The floods came and technè failed 69
• The frost on the window 54
• The ghost of her gaze 65
• The grit by the track 71
• The guilt of invasion and slavery 14
• The heat of sheets 7
• The hedges on Herschel Road 60
• The light on the platform 20
• The myth of his tongue 84
• The necks of dead witches 15
• The night sweats convey, confuse 94
• The pain bites 16
• The prose of love 58
• There are flags in the forest 41
• There is a gap in my head the dentist found 96
• These bones on the prairies are frozen 76
• These floods blew through the streets 74
• These hedges teem. The blood 72
• The shadow of the shadow’s face 67
• The silence of these trees 91
• The story of this earth might be 63
• The sun made your flesh 50
• The tanks watched, almost at war, 70
• The tribe of sleep has broken in 83
• The utopia of dreams denies 51
• The weariness of the marrow 17
• The winter of our breath 37
• The world is actuarial 6
• They surrounded the marsh 11
• They that eat the land 75
• This dream knows no decency: 82
• This poem — like prose 73
• Too much history and not enough time: 21
• We begin in a tunnel: when we emerge 22
• What 12
• What gift there was 38
• What hedges do is hard to tell. 28
• What is let is let in the gunyard 68
• Why are you haunted, son, by the night 4
• You are a refugee 56
• You both see something in the world 42