– Saul Bellow, Papuans and Zulus, NYTimes, 3/10/94

In a field
I look into
going
past.

and the ground
almost
covered smooth, with snow,
but a few weeds
and stubble
showing
last

The woods around it, have it,
it is theirs.
All animals are smothered
in their lairs.
I am too absent spirited to count,
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is
that loneliness
will be more lonely
ere it will be less

a blanker whiteness of benighted snow,
with no expression
nothing to express.

they cannot scare me
with their empty spaces

between stars, on stars
where no human race is.
I have it in me
so much nearer home
to scare myself
with my ow desert places.