Subject: Toni

From: "cymbre neils" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2007 17:31:49 +0900

VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
Of Boyg of Normandy . . .
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
A pallid yellow lingers
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
Unreadable from behind뾲hey are well down
So you can watch me watch uplifted snow
Floating on the sky.
The surge of swirling wind defines
In white, in paint too representative
I seek, above all, in the wandering
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.