In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields.
Modernized by tin roofs and T-shirts, Third World poverty is no longer picturesque.
Some live in a state of passionate indecision.
I want to appear ordinary, but I have it understood that I am not.
A suburb is an attempt to get out of reach of the city without having the city be out of reach.
Interpreting the dance: young women in white dancing in a ring can only be virgins; old women in black dancing in a ring can only be witches; but middle-aged women in colors, square dancing...?