So many faces gazing up at me from these colorless waves—
Now, thanks to a sullen evening sun, Crane Mountain and the moonrise negotiate an uneasy truce.
Hah! Next thing you'll say—the North Star is a tuning fork; all is well!
—Except for one thing, damn it. Walking northward up and down golden hills and valleys of dream, I never reach my childhood home, 3216 Emerson Street in Palo Alto.
trembling for both of us