poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

enter no(silence is the blood whose flesh
is singing)silence:but unsinging.  In
spectral such hugest how hush,one

dead leaf stirring makes a crash

-far away(as far as alive)lies
april;and i breathe-move-and-seem some
perpetually roaming whylessness-

autumn has gone:will winter never come?

o come,terrible anonymity;enfold
phantom me with the murdering minus of cold
-open this ghost with millionary knives of wind-
scatter his nothing all over what angry skies and

gently
      (very whiteness:absolute peace,
never imaginable mystery)
		                 descend

Added: 19 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 25 May 2012 10:30 PM | Viewed: 7913 times

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