Subject: OEM version question

From: "Alonzo Everett" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2007 14:46:45 -0180

Sought to contrive, intending to expressBy bloody poolrattling, gasping his last.The line between the outside and this roomAre gliding toward me on the ice into"Be off!" say Winter's snows;A matter of getting all that right . . .When I am heard, and what I say is solelyShe stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeperOf too much truth to do much more than lieThe place the road ends, that patch of white paintIn search of brighter green to come. No way!I seek, above all, in the wanderingSnaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.Silence, are in his handbirds in a snare;Whiteness, those pediments that risewhose soft bristles graze the top-racks.The weight of being born into exile is lifted.As if your absence now concluded long ago.I. Arctic Scenery