Memoirous

James Schuyler, In January "In January After Ibn Sahl The yard has sopped into its green-grizzled self its new year         whiteness. A dog stirs the noon-blue dark with a running shadow and dirt         smells cold and doggy As though the one thing never seen were its frozen coupling         with the air that brings the flowers of grasses. And a leafless beech stands wrinkled, gray and sexless–all bone         and loosened sinew–in silver glory And the sun falls all on one side of it in a running glance, a         licking gaze, an eye-kiss And ancient silver struck by gold emerges mossy, pinkly         lichened where the sun fondles it And starlings of anthracite march into the east with rapid jerky      ...

" In January After Ibn Sahl The yard has sopped into its green-grizzled self its new year         whiteness. A dog stirs the noon-blue dark with a running shadow and dirt         smells cold and doggy As though the one thing never seen were its frozen coupling         with the air that brings the flowers of grasses. And a leafless beech stands wrinkled, gray and sexless–all bone         and loosened sinew–in silver glory And the sun falls all on one side of it in a running glance, a         licking gaze, an eye-kiss And ancient silver struck by gold emerges mossy, pinkly         lichened where the sun fondles it And starlings of anthracite march into the east with rapid jerky         steps pecki...