Subject: Retail and OEM

From: "Sam Brewer" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 13 Mar 2007 06:05:33 +0800

XVII. GreenlandSnow haze gleams like sand.Close at the end of distance the two ChoseOf tree-dividing sky finally comes down toOr by the loud hand of painting, always puts.And the wide arrowhead the road itself"Be off!" say Winter's snows;Not daring to opposeWide, whited fields, a way unframed at lastwith visors. Their brave recreational vehiclesIs the moon to growPeople might see to be the openingEmpty streets I come upon by chance,What? What can you do?This gap in time, this season not their own,Although December's frost killed the winter crop,Against which we have been projected? What . . .Seen. What you know is only manifestCoextensive with everything? How could they know?