Crossing the Alps by Night


I  wrote this poem in the summer of 1976, when I was on a night train from Paris to Rome:


Crossing the Alps by Night



We are standing still.

The trees race

by the black backs

of mountains

rolling on the

full mooned sky,

candle shadows

on cathedral wall.


The wind

pouring horizons of air,

tastes sweet

and cold as water.


Standing world

in a darkroom,

night reversed by the moon-

by the moon!

What lies behind that sky

not dark wood of worlds

but light.

We know

by the singular hole

of a star.





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