My Truths Are All Foreknown,this Anguish Self-revealed.i'm

My Papa's Waltz: The Whiskey On Your Breath Could Make A Small Boy Dizzy; But I Hung On Like Death: Such Waltzing Was Not Easy. We Romped Until The Pans Slid From The Kitchen Shelf; My Mother's Countenance Could Not Unfrown Itself. The Hand That Held My Wrist Was Battered On One Knuckle; At Every Step You Missed My Right Ear Scraped A Buckle. You Beat Time On My Head With A Palm Caked Hard By Dirt, Then Waltzed Me Off To Bed Still Clinging To Your Shirt.

The Fields Stretch Out In Long Unbroken Rows. We Walk Aware Of What Is Far And Close. Here Distance Is Familiar As A Friend. The Feud We Kept With Space Comes To An End.

Time Marks Us While We Are Marking Time.

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

Fear Was My Father, Father Fear. His Look Drained The Stones.