On the Sexual Revolution:
“ . . . some very plausible stuff is being written by women in a way that most men are not doing . . . ”

The way it came spinning onto the lawn—
the elm trees’ chaffy currency, each piece
with a spot of seed at the center; the katydid-

“Now, I must tell you of our grandeur,”
she’d written. “We are going to have
a Turkey!!! carpet in the dining room . . .

Rainstorms that blacken like a headache
where mosses thicken, and the mornings
smell of jonquils, the stillness