FROM my last years, last thoughts I here bequeath,
Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and wafted to the West,
Through moisture of Ohio, prairie soil of Illinois—through Colorado, California air,
For Time to germinate fully.
by Jeff Friedman You came with your dark hats,
fringed shawls, gifts—
armloads of flowers and grief.
You came with twigs,
muddy houses, ashes
smeared on your cheeks.
You came with your broken clocks,
loud ...