In a single floral stroke,
"Now it's my turn to sing!"
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
By trees—or might see as the masonry
trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
But when, on the timepieces that we call
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
That this mud draws on the stone.
"Now it's my turn to sing!"
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
By trees—or might see as the masonry
trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
But when, on the timepieces that we call
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
That this mud draws on the stone.
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