And I would like
At San Biagio, in the most intense room
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
I know,
As if your human shape were what the storm
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Winds blow sharp, what then?
>From there. Toward . . .
Bronze the sky, with no
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
A salamander scuttles across the quiet
But what I am looking at is hardened snow,