Angelina

Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
Snow haze gleams like sand.
XIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the Tegetthoff
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
This perfection, this absence.
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
In the woods, close by,
What is there in the depths of these walls
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
�Now that you notice it�have just moved past
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
To follow in the path of their brief blossoming
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
And off the white smoke swims
By trees�or might see as the masonry
I know,
Everywhere, utterly.