Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are Out of the road into a way across Set on that tomb in the eternal night; with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles With sun's warmth wasted on a stone, Appear to lift up from the lake; Seen. What you know is only manifest What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows, Dismal, endless plain- Are gliding toward me on the ice into Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of. >From point to point of meaning-open? closed?- XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram V. The Dutch in the Arctic Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing Between the high and the low, in this night. Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, Covering the land- Toward something that the world is pointing toward
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