Tabernacle by Cid Corman, 1980

Inscription:

For Frank

Not the former

I waiter, etc - but

what the printers

did. But there are

finally some alternatives

in the offering.

In any event-

the poetry comes-

Much love

Cid

Nothing more

than this. And

this enough.

But no one-

short of death-

admits it.

______________________

Locked in ourselves

hopelessly and

dreaming of hope

So many sills

gaping. We die

until we die.

______________________

Not silent-

night insects-

being born

The bane of

existence

and the point.

______________________

It could snow tonight.

If feels like it. You

have to listen close

to catch the sound of

that first flake. The new

nuance of silence.

______________________

Opening the door

onto the back porch

scaring a sparrow

away-feeling not

only a fool but

a gross intruder.

______________________

The first word

and the last

are to be

poetry-

for we re-

main human.