The miracle, of course, was not that the oil for the sacred light - in a little cruse - lasted as long as they say; but that the courage of the Macca….

The street curves in and out, up and down in great waves of asphalt; at night the granite tomb is noisy with starlings like the creaking of many axle….

Among the heaps of brick and plaster lies/ a girder, still itself among the rubbish.

The fingers of your thoughts are molding your face ceaselessly..

I will walk by myself and cure myself in the sunshine and the wind..