Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
But when, on the timepieces that we call
Blurring the terrain,
Appear to lift up from the lake;
Out of the road into a way across
II. List of Franklin Search Parties
—The place the road ends, that patch of white paint
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
for a few weeks, statistics won't seem
She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper
Given by nature will soak into it.
Against this sky no longer of our world.
Standing in the way of the truth. A white
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
From there. Toward . . .