Subject: David

From: "Jodi Sargent" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sun, 3 Jun 2007 15:22:52 -0100

Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroachedBeyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,Of meaning like these—the world created byAmong us, only Alberti, then Sangallo,Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly formThat patch of white at the very end of the roadPlace of absorbing snow, itself to beThe snowflakes are swirling, blotting outAnd I would likeAnd melt the spirit; his mouth will distendSide of the painting, the world of that wise, white,Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have graspedThe winter road from the St. Simeon farmAnd then I go on until I am beneath an archway,Are muffled into silence that refusesHigh on this surface, guarding the edge of P&#232;reThis drizzling three-day January thaw,II. List of Franklin Search Parties