Looking for a poem

Restless, stretches of time in bed sectioned with looks at computer screens and taking various books off the shelves.

I keep looking through the five shelves of poetry for just what I want to read: I don't know what it is but will know it (perhaps) when I see it –

not Anne Carson, a new name, she gets too visceral at points; not Cavafy, Auden, Rilke. Something calm and perfect, beautifully made, but not upsetting: almost but not quite like some of Pound's Personae. (And absolutely nothing anywhere in the worlds of Plath, Sexton, Eliot – all way too upsetting, utterly not what I'm looking for at the moment).

Most modern Western poems don't fit my mood: the desperation of individuals trying to arouse the great public of a too-crowded world to listen, listen, listen – all too passionate, dramatic and shrill. Or tragic. None of those things, not now: some kind of poem that is like a dream, and a calm one, glassy and fascinating.

Perhaps like that wonderful one by Charles Wright – what is it – 'Snow' I think.

I hear you saying: well you want haiku, don't you?… no, too clichéd. Even Basho is too artificial in English.

Milosz, maybe, as he remains calm: not the long poems, but something short. I don't want to be led into a long disquisition on time and everything that is.

Or maybe best: a small pile of books, those blessedly slim and graceful poetry books, put on the shelf next to my bed….