As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light, and turn it into something cartoon-funny. Scrawny wolves, and you, Life, or only joy, that stands out Grateful, I know, for just such compensations, Dim, and die tonight? In Florida, it's strawberry season— Not so much of place as of renewed hope, Onto my frozen fingers. Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head, Appendices Partly stone, partly the absence of stone, Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, Everywhere, utterly. III. Earliest Recorded Northern Explorers: The Greeks and the Vikings XI. Franklin's Last Voyage (Our fortitude grows dim in XXI. Flying in the Arctic How bittersweet it is, on winter's night, VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast Thinking of your abiding spirit brings But when, on the timepieces that we call Shadows keep piling up as surfaces Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed trainer flips young alligators over on their backs, Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead Snow haze gleams like sand. In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last. And I would like Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air. That patch of white at the very end of the road Toward something that the world is pointing toward With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching At these masses the snow hides from me. Figures of light and dark, these two are walking The paths of childhood. IX. After the Great Northern Expedition Glimmering of light: Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, From there. Toward . . . From point to point of meaning—open? closed?— He never even dreams, being sheer snow; And the wide arrowhead the road itself Before those virile women! The weight of being born into exile is lifted. And I would like Shadows keep piling up as surfaces Covering the land— And half-starved foxes shake and paw Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce Glimmering of light: III. Earliest Recorded Northern Explorers: The Greeks and the Vikings Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of. And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they All three bits of verse via spam asking me to download Adobe Photoshop CS3 for only $89.
"Spoems"
1 Comment -
uncertian? that grace
Sun Dec 16, 05:02:00 am