Alicia Keller

Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too

Rain at Muchalat, rain at Sooke,  And rain, they say, from Yale to Skeena,  And the skid-roads blind, and never a look  Of the Coast Range blue over Malaspina,  And west winds keener

Night fell one year ago, like this. He had been writing steadily. Among these dusky walls of books, How bright he looked, intense as flame! Suddenly he paused, The firelight in his hair, And said, “The time has come to go” I took his hand; We watched the logs burn out;