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Index
Cover Page Title Page Copyright Page Contents Notes In Recollection I What, me, guard sheep? II My sight’s sharp as a sunflower III At sunset, bending out the window IV This afternoon a thunderstorm careened V There’s enough metaphysics in not thinking at all... VI Just thinking about God is disobeying God VII From Garrison Creek I see the earth to the antipodes of the Universe... VIII One noon at the end of spring IX Hey, these are my sheep X “Hey there, you sheepish girl, in your sheep coat” XI Some woman out there has a piano XII Virgil’s shepherds played novenas and other things XIII Get up, there’s no solace XIV Rhymes get on my nerves. Rarely XV The four songs that follow... XVI What I’d give for my life to be my neighbour’s old car XVII Don’t prate on about mixed salad XVIII What I’d give to be the sidewalk on Winnett XIX Moonlight’s beat in suburb’s lawn XX The Humber is pretty fabulous, really XXI If I could chew on the whole earth XXII Tremulous summer in a white coat XXIII My azure gaze is heavenly XXIV What we see of things are things XXV Those soap bubbles blown by the boy Virgil XXVI At times on days of such honed and perfect light XXVII Only Nature is divine, and she’s a girl... XXVIII Today I read nearly two pages XXIX What I say and write are not always equal XXX So I’m a mystic. And then? XXXI If at times I claim flowers smile and rivers sing XXXII Late yesterday in the Agora... XXXIII Dismal are the flowers kept in prissy gardens XXXIV I realize it’s so natural not to think XXXV Over there, across the parking lot, in that tree... XXXVI And then there’s poets who are artists XXXVII Like a huge blotch of sullied fire XXXVIII That bloody sun’s shining everywhere, even in downtown Toronto... XXXIX The mystery of things, where is it? XL A butterfly just winged in front of me XLI At the end of some hot days of Summer... XLII There goes a car backwards down Winnett, it’s gone XLIII Compared to a bird, whose flight leaves no path XLIV At night I’m suddenly awake XLV That line of trees across the parking lot XLVI Any which way at all XLVII On one of those crazy clear days XLVIII From the highest window of my house on Winnett XLIX I go back inside and shut the window L Sometimes life occurs to me in French An Interview with Alberto Caeiro in Vigo, Spain A Note on Fernando Pessoa Footnote
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