13 DECEMBER 1963, Page 28

Two Poems


was it you wrote 'that a starless sky is the better for sequins, and that I must help you pin them on (or try)?'

the old goat—I write you from Corsica browsing for scrub—kicks down on his pursuer rocks, mountains, regret . . .

sun tinsels the hair and the cheek shines like a wet apple— you swim, and the body remains supple but the mind unpleasantly bright like gold tooth.

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