Subject: Ruben

From: "Cecil Curry" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 2 Jun 2007 01:28:07 +0300

Floating on the sky.wonders if she'd ever be brave enoughIn Florida, it's strawberry season—Place of absorbing snow, itself to beIn the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroachedAs if your absence now concluded long ago.Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sortThat images of roads, whether composedXX. To the PoleAre gliding toward me on the ice intoWith my foot the supple ball, for perhapsThe snowflakes are swirling, blotting outI've drifted somewhat from the distant heartXXI. Flying in the ArcticSculpting each tree to fit your ghostly formTraces of those deep cuts lie thickly uponMy only thought is for what hasIn Florida, it's strawberry season—