The church is an iceberg.  

     from Winter Night, Charles Simic


No one remembers what it was
They were knitting
And what happened when the ball of yarn
Rolled out of their laps
And had to be retrieved.*  

     from Gallows Etiquette, Charles Simic



I was on lookout in a tower
     eye level with god.
I had a pretty little head
     on my shoulders.

the idea came to me
in fingers

that touched
my heels.