The pain of being born into matter.
Of meaning like these—the world created by
As it sits there like an eventual
By the design of our own silent eyes
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
Onto my frozen fingers.
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
With a hand freed from weight,
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
Covering the land—
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
And off the white smoke swims
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
Everywhere, utterly.
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
A kind of snow, which hesitates
End of the comedy.
Covering the land—
Of meaning like these—the world created by
As it sits there like an eventual
By the design of our own silent eyes
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
Onto my frozen fingers.
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
With a hand freed from weight,
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
Covering the land—
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
And off the white smoke swims
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
Everywhere, utterly.
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
A kind of snow, which hesitates
End of the comedy.
Covering the land—
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