This summer I will revisit painting and I hope it feels like meeting an old friend.
Here is the topography of false starts. Here
a whole constellation is lousy with desire.
Here what passes for love is the same
as anywhere. Here no one has said
a prayer for the stars, and here no one
comes, except to leave, except to stay
long enough to bruise.
— Paul Guest, from “The Report from Home,” in The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World: Poems (New Issues Press, 2003)