Dismal, endless plain—
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
This gap in time, this season not their own,
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Billows the fog, cloaks
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
With a hand freed from weight,
Choces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fields
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
This gap in time, this season not their own,
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Billows the fog, cloaks
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
With a hand freed from weight,
Choces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fields
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
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