i           the lake that’s black in January.

ii          an a.m. running stream,
            mineral off the Loser mountain.
 
iii         stepped out the car in Ratten
            to a high clear air, „Die Post“, tractor.
 
iv        Wolfsburg, for instance, was a zone of deaf white.

v          and the Villach canal, sprayed with weed.
 
vi         I lived on a hill in Kärnten
            with piebald goats and barns.
 
vii        I’d go back to Tyrol’s
            whistling river,
            I’d go to Voralberg’s
            houses made from wooden feathers.

viii       I climbed forests of mountains
            and came out to insects, flowers,
            razed trees, cattle.

where I walked the smooth roads
daily, passing chickens and the ridge
above the cemetery.