Subject: Jeffery

From: "benny austen" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 4 Apr 2007 19:31:25 +0200

So, startled, quivering,
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Whiteness, those pediments that rise
The place the road ends, that patch of white paint
Onto my frozen fingers.
Along the walls are only empty niches,
Some stubborn sprouts up through the stubble hay,
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
A kind of snow, which hesitates
visitors' dugout. The osprey whose nest is atop
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
References
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
In a single floral stroke,