Creative Suite 3

Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
This gap in time, this season not their own,
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
XX. To the Pole
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
To reach out into its own vanishing
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Before those virile women!
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
That square�Oh, 56 x 56
What? What can you do?
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
I do not betray you, I still go forward,