Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question To reach out into its own vanishingthere's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories.... Glimmering of light:End of the comedy. Away, my songs, must we goXX. To the Pole Snow haze gleams like sand.To reach out into its own vanishing II. List of Franklin Search PartiesAnd still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring Not so much of place as of renewed hope,From which, thanks to symmetry, Not so much of place as of renewed hope,And then I go on until I am beneath an archway, This third day of our January thaw,(Our fortitude grows dim in
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