Karina

"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
The mortal architect had brought to life,
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted
The surge of swirling wind defines
snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,
High on this surface, guarding the edge of P�re
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper
By the design of our own silent eyes
I. Arctic Scenery
XX. To the Pole
Centimeters�that the height of the canvas
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
Lucky the bell�still full and deep of throat,
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.