A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.
Away from their profundity of surface.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Covering the land—
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke
—Now that you notice it—have just moved past
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
Whiteness, those pediments that rise
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
The face of a Quos ego),
Rain. We are forced to fly,
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows,
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
Away from their profundity of surface.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Covering the land—
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke
—Now that you notice it—have just moved past
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
Whiteness, those pediments that rise
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
The face of a Quos ego),
Rain. We are forced to fly,
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows,
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
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