A Spectre in Every Street: George Oppen and the Poetics of Communism
The Forms of Love
Parked in the fields
All night
So many years ago,
We saw
A lake beside us
When the moon rose.
I remember
Leaving that ancient car
Together. I remember
Standing in the white grass
Beside it. We groped
Our way together
Downhill in the bright
Incredible light
Beginning to wonder
Whether it could be lake
Or fog We saw, our heads
Ringing under the stars we walked
To where it would have wet our feet
Had it been water
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