Allowing me to let your picture form and wake
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
I seek, above all, in the wandering
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
In Florida, it's strawberry season�
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Along the walls are only empty niches,
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Unreadable from behind�they are well down
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
The form sought for centuries by
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
And the wide arrowhead the road itself
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
Silence, are in his hand�birds in a snare;
Preface to the 1970 Edition
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
I seek, above all, in the wandering
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
In Florida, it's strawberry season�
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Along the walls are only empty niches,
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Unreadable from behind�they are well down
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
The form sought for centuries by
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
And the wide arrowhead the road itself
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
Silence, are in his hand�birds in a snare;
Preface to the 1970 Edition
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