Subject: Bernie

From: "ryley valerie" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 4 Apr 2007 00:55:51 -0300

This third day of our January thaw,
To pick up even the quickening of wind
To follow in the path of their brief blossoming
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
-Now that you notice it-have just moved past
I. Arctic Scenery
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
At these masses the snow hides from me.
That desire has ever built, have approached
In a single floral stroke,
Would their world not remain comfortably
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
Between the high and the low, in this night.
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
Whiteness, those pediments that rise