The fur­ther­ing of the snow The snow­ing of the snow As it cov­ers the earth With a white wind and noth­ing gen­tle Nothing hes­i­tant It flies berserk and vocif­er­ous Plummets left to right Unholy and obdu­rate Like Genghis Khan in the spring And I count down the num­bers The ten num­bers of my own leg­end As I wait for the white to rise From the Earth and fall From the preg­nant grey I can no longer see Covered in that white Hidden from that view From the farms and churches and moun­tains Topped with my deliv­er­ance It is the night of the day Our cir­cle cracked Our band of mer­ci­less friends once linked By knowl­edge and risk and alchem­i­cal Delirium like mages on intel­lec­tual parade The break came with the rev­e­la­tion That one of us wanted hap­pi­ness Wanted calm and love and warmth Not per­pet­ual self-​​destruction Or destruc­tion of other selves Cast out that other self Is here In the fur­ther­ing white­ness Closer Closer to that noth­ing­ness Stevens imag­ined he heard By Douglas Pinson _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ Copyright © 2008 Spinozoblue and Douglas Pinson. All rights reserved. The mate­r­ial on this site may not be repro­duced, dis­trib­uted, trans­mit­ted, cached, or oth­er­wise used, except with the prior writ­ten per­mis­sion of Spinozablue, Inc.
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