There in the burnt and churning turf
I see the remnants fire;
I see their threatening of the earth
Cool blithely and expire.
The stipples on the embers fade,
The great components tire.
Was this way the woods were made,
In blaze and in living fire?
Somewhere on an infinite convex shard of ridge in moss-bark and the sediment of primordial pilgrims is the Vale Tree. Wrapped in sap,...
Light refractions and milk dreams, You slink our street in all seasons, Supple ice, fractal sun, splintered tiles There on your Citroen...
A wisp off a train, jink in a summer hat. Her coat, different and the same our everything in its fabric. Luxembourg forests infinite...
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