SAMPLE:
(1991)
In rain, I first saw the house,
shingled in Dormouse gray.
Through streaked windows
of wavering glass its fields wild,
impenetrable November
weather raising a dog's musty
history-scent, others' histories,
not a New York smell inside.
(Underfoot, a wall-to-wall patch-
work of multi-colored carpet
remnants covering up
the old chestnut floors,
the toddlers each chose
a carpet square as home-base.)
I heard the agent say-
No ghosts -but overhead
quick-clicking ceiling feet
scamper the attic, red squirrels
and gray racing the dark.
From the eaves flying-squirrels
jumping into the mist.