So, startled, quivering,
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Of meaning like these—the world created by
Seen. What you know is only manifest
The paths of childhood.
Again awaken from your being gone to find
This perfection, this absence.
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Summer bees were saying
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
Cuts out of its width (81). Unfair
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
The form sought for centuries by
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Of meaning like these—the world created by
Seen. What you know is only manifest
The paths of childhood.
Again awaken from your being gone to find
This perfection, this absence.
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Summer bees were saying
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
Cuts out of its width (81). Unfair
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
The form sought for centuries by
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