Again　　Norman Dubie　　I’d left Paris for the beaches　　in Spain.

I’d sold　　my dead father’s farm　　and, in shame,　　bought it back again　　at a great loss .

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then　　a plough(犁) found　　a shelf of bismuth(铋)　　and I sold just the north pasture(牧草)　　for big serial profits　　and I am ashamed again:　　the huge white bones of my father’s　　favorite cow exposed　　one late September morning!

　　It’s always been potatoes and bread　　or millions of francs(法郎) on speculation.

　　I am not stupid.

I’m not dead.

　　But the bones of an old cow assemble　　repeatedly now in a dream　　where my naked lame(跛足的) father　　sits in a tub of boiling milk　　and screams at me　　first my name and then his name　　which is the same　　name.

The crimes of the verb to be　　pushing a hard rain in general　　across the city and its suburbs.

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