This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.
From Monhegan sketchbk '64 The Rocks By middle of the summer The [[strikethrough]] summer [[/strikethrough]] landscape [[strikethrough]] had arranged itself: [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] was a spread of wedds[[/strikethrough]][[strikethrough]]weeds[[/strikethrough]] One one side the blue sky, The cliffs, the ocean, and the flow Of [[strikethrough]] air [[/strikethrough]] cold and the incidence of birds. On [[strikethrough]] all [[/strikethrough]] the other -- [[strikethrough]] questions [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] and unfilled days, [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] The decision that weeds [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] The tentative plans that helped were not weeds[[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] To bridge the woods [[/strikethrough]] The pressed wildflower awaiting identity. And the rocks, [[strikethrough]] still without meaning [[/strikethrough]] Large, and everywhere, inhabiting The paths and the slopes and the edges, Swarming into the sea. And drowning at high tide, Drowned and always there, Saying nothing at all. [[strikethrough]] To anyone who was aware of them [[/strikethrough]] Weeds [[strikethrough]] thrust poked[[/strikethrough]] shook [[strikethrough]]ridged[[/strikethrough]] green pods [[strikethrough]] into [[/strikethrough]] at the sky. The birds faltered in a lath of [[strikethrough]]gr[[/strikethrough]] weather It was such [[strikethrough]] an incidence of birds [[/strikethrough]] a flow of air
Transcription Notes:
The crossed-out word "summer" was rewritten as "landscape"