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Dave Bonta
where the dog threw up
at the edge of the road
early morning gulls
the incoming tide
a ground beetle rotates
on its back
through a gap in the hedge
as we flash past
a partridge and her chicks
village museum
retired fishermen gaze
at their old nets
rain in the campground
a girl hops back to her tent
on one foot
the sun comes out
Strong rocks hold up the riksdag bridge . . . always
strong river waters shoving their shoulders against
them . . .
In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking
to each other about more potatoes and bread for
the Swedish people to eat this winter.
In a boat among calm waters next to the running
waters a fisherman sits in the dark and I, leaning
at a parapet, see him lift a net and let it down
... he waits ... the waters run ... the
riksdag talks ... he lifts the net and lets it
down . . .
Stars lost in the sky ten days of drizzle spread over
the sky saying yes-yes.
Every afternoon at four o'clock fifteen apple women
who have sold their apples in Christiania meet