Saturday, September 22, 2007

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That desire has ever built, have approached
I seek, above all, in the wandering
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
X. The British Attack on the Arctic
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
Cuts out of its width (81). Unfair
demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
Appear to lift up from the lake;
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
And piled up at the base of the columns
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
That images of roads, whether composed
Not daring to oppose
Standing in the way of the truth. A white
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
Not daring to oppose

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