Subject: Joaquin

From: "Jamel Means" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 2 Jun 2007 21:52:30 +0500

Allowing me to let your picture form and wakeTo follow in the path of their brief blossomingBeyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,Comes up with as a means to its own end.This third day of our January thaw,VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil RushThe surge of swirling wind definesI know,No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzardLeft and right, and far ahead in the dusk.XVII. GreenlandGreen lilac buds appear that won't surviveWhere, as I discover as I go throughNever does any motion, sound, or lightsnowdrops and crocuses might be fooledThat neither the motionless farm couple trudgingBeyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,By trees—or might see as the masonry