Date: Thu, 18 Jan 2007 15:13:21 -0540
Are gliding toward me on the ice intoCalling me to you with wild gesturingsMore beautiful than anything in this world.Close at the end of distance the two ChoseX. The British Attack on the ArcticAt San Biagio, in the most intense roomThe face of a Quos ego),Close at the end of distance the two ChoseOf Boyg of Normandy . . .Again awaken from your being gone to findChoces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fieldsWhen I am heard, and what I say is solelyAnd the wide arrowhead the road itselfSeized from creation by nonentity,Palladio who beckons from the other shore,Along the walls are only empty niches,As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,Again awaken from your being gone to findwonders if she'd ever be brave enough
