Now I have my elk, my
pasqueflower
his meals with the uniformed peon laborers
to excavate brick walls from a legion of nomads
needlework across the face of the earth
of such figures to plod, pace, and toil into the imagination
grain; in Haiti, bananas; salt but the figure became an icon, a symbol
crushing loads of bizarre Pakistan; fish in Portugal sprouted a five-gallon drum
sleepy, intricate faraway early stories
straining their eyes
he posed her in autochromes.