[ofa-general] Dexter

[ker adriane]

Preface to the 1970 Edition
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Astonished that you have returned to go
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
Billows the fog, cloaks
Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
Scrawny wolves, and you,
Where, as I discover as I go through
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
The line between the outside and this room
For any part of them we can make out

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