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The form sought for centuries by
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
Merely a mockery of spring
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
—The place the road ends, that patch of white paint
Against this sky no longer of our world.
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be
Is the moon to grow
A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
He is harsh, dismal, ice—that is, exiled;
Snow haze gleams like sand.
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
Blurring the terrain,