My only thought is for what has
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
A matter of getting all that right . . .
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
What? What can you do?
I bring down a bit of its light
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
What is there in the depths of these walls
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
A matter of getting all that right . . .
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
What? What can you do?
I bring down a bit of its light
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
What is there in the depths of these walls
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
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