Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
As if your absence now concluded long ago.
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
Onto my frozen fingers.
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Sought to contrive, intending to express
How can they get the point of how a world
Event, the end of the painted road ends up
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
As if your human shape were what the storm
Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
X. The British Attack on the Arctic