i_rabbit

Away from their profundity of surface

The bees are buzzing,

Reshaping magnified, each risen flake

From point to point of meaning—open? closed?

—to try that, to hold a terrifying beast

He is harsh, dismal, ice—that is, exiled;

and preening, dancing on the basepaths,

Among us, only Alberti, then Sangallo,

The surge of swirling wind defines

Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,

Cuts out of its width Unfair

Thinking of your abiding spirit brings

Against this sky no longer of our world.

References, Shadows keep piling up as surfaces

I draw near to one of them, the lowest,

Green lilac buds appear that won’t survive

From which, thanks to symmetry,

Along the walls are only empty niches