Subject: Frieda

From: "kalvin bertie" <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 30 Apr 2007 18:54:32 -0400

the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
When Arctic winds crack down from Canada
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
Beneath the snowflakes I notice façades
XX. To the Pole
Snow haze gleams like sand.
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
A kind of snow, which hesitates
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
From point to point of meaning-open? closed?-
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be