I don’t know their names but I know their faces      and they’re not here.I’d like to think that what is…

that if I open the windowand hold out my handit would feel moonlightdelicate and invisibly softand if I spread my…

. . . perhaps a Paris      very much like Paris or not quite Paris.                   –Herbert Morris.  “Sophia and Marcello…

Maybe it’s as easy as this:knowing she will always be therewhen you come home.That she won’t have gone away,even thought…