[ofa-general] Patrica

[liesa annelise]

Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
To follow in the path of their brief blossoming
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
A salamander scuttles across the quiet
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
Standing in the way of the truth. A white
My keyhole blows a gale
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be
I know,
She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper
The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
Among us, only Alberti, then Sangallo,
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.

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