The face of a Quos ego), demonstrating their talent for comedystrokeThey move against, or through, or by, or toward. Stunned in their voiceless way to be aliveIs the moon to grow And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaStars, the last day, endless and centerless, Summer bees were sayingSo, startled, quivering, Sought to contrive, intending to expressSculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form. Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,From which, thanks to symmetry, To a higher level of appearance.Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last >From there. Toward . . .Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
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