Its consciousness of my white consciousness,Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,To reach out into its own vanishingI seek, above all, in the wanderingSnaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.Allowing me to let your picture form and wakeSeized from creation by nonentity,Event, the end of the painted road ends upTo a higher level of appearance.When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaAway from their profundity of surface.snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,Blurring the terrain,Snow haze gleams like sand.The form sought for centuries byMerely a mockery of springDown the long course of the gray slush of thingsXXI. Flying in the Arctic
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