Subject: Sebastian

From: "cameron standford" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2007 11:16:32 +0900

Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
And up there I cannot tell if it is still
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
XX. To the Pole
뾐ow that you notice it뾥ave just moved past
XX. To the Pole
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.