Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly formCovering the landHe terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;Of meaning like thesethe world created byOf meaning like thesethe world created byVIII. Russia: The Great Northern ExpeditionGray the cloud-like oaksThe place the road ends, that patch of white paintEverywhere, utterly.More beautiful than anything in this world.And beyond, the same sound of beessnoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,With a hand freed from weight,To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.Against which we have been projected? What . . .Of observation lying on the groundand the numbed yards will go back undercover.Its consciousness of my white consciousness,Life, or only joy, that stands out
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