trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
—The place the road ends, that patch of white paint
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
watching calisthenics from the grandstands.
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
Dim, and die tonight?
That open before me? What I see
End of the comedy.
XVII. Greenland
Glimmering of light:
(Our fortitude grows dim in
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
—The place the road ends, that patch of white paint
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
watching calisthenics from the grandstands.
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
Dim, and die tonight?
That open before me? What I see
End of the comedy.
XVII. Greenland
Glimmering of light:
(Our fortitude grows dim in
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
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