Subject: Efrain

From: "kalindi flory" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sun, 1 Apr 2007 11:58:15 +0400

Merely a mockery of spring
Sits at the limit of a kind of world
Choces, MХre and PХre, undreaming even of fields
To have been claimed by what we see of what
Billows the fog, cloaks
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Dreaming time has reversed≈and you,
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
Yes. The obvious
XX. To the Pole
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
Preface to the 1970 Edition
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
A salamander scuttles across the quiet
So, startled, quivering,
That desire has ever built, have approached