[physik] yyzfwk

[Dewey Henderson]

At the white place of the road's vanishing
That desire has ever built, have approachedTo mark that square, perhaps: were Mère and Père
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,What is there in the depths of these walls
In a single floral stroke,This perfection, this absence.
They move against, or through, or by, or toward.What can we know of whatever picture-plane
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
That only you and I can know. Les deuxAgainst which we have been projected? What . . .
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,Would their world not remain comfortably
To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.I might have happily lived some other childhood.
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