Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
Traces of those deep cuts lie thickly upon
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
What? What can you do?
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be
Dismal, endless plain—
Partly stone, partly the absence of stone,
From there. Toward . . .
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
Sits at the limit of a kind of world
Come, swallows, it's good-bye.
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Across the heavens' gray.
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
And off the white smoke swims
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough

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