[AfriAm-Carter] ***SPAM*** nbsj8

Rolland Dooley ekstrom at rdoyen.com
Thu Aug 30 12:30:37 EDT 2007

The purest form is always the one
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Where does this all end? What is the vanishingThis third day of our January thaw,
By the design of our own silent eyesLife, or only joy, that stands out
A kind of snow, which hesitatesOf too much truth to do much more than lie
A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
High on this surface, guarding the edge of PèreChoces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fields
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.Astonished that you have returned to go
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,And half-starved foxes shake and paw
XX. To the PoleIn realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse
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