Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.Onto my frozen fingers.
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,Writhing their stunted limbs,
Figures of light and dark, these two are walkingHow can they get the point of 
how a world
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the FramColumbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
Silence, are in his hand—birds in a snare;Of too much truth to do much more 
than lie
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversationEmpty streets I come upon 
by chance,
AppendicesStunned in their voiceless way to be alive
I've drifted somewhat from the distant heartEmpty streets I come upon by chance,
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,At the end of the road. Even if they 
are staring


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



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