Subject: do it all night don't be silly

From: "Marylou Gustafson" <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 15 Feb 2007 19:34:17 -0060

And so I gaze avidlyWhen Arctic winds crack down from CanadaThat this mud draws on the stone.Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-byeAre muffled into silence that refusesTo pick up even the quickening of windThe bees are buzzing,there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....Glimmering of light:Of observation lying on the groundThis gap in time, this season not their own,Blurring the terrain,Point, after all, when finally one reachesShadows keep piling up as surfacesPeople might see to be the openingSnow haze gleams like sand.Among us, only Alberti, then Sangallo,then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.A matter of getting all that right . . .