Along the walls are only empty niches,
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Floating on the sky.
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
That this mud draws on the stone.
Preface to the 1948 Edition
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Floating on the sky.
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
That this mud draws on the stone.
Preface to the 1948 Edition
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
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