warm snow strands itself

blowing through ranks of windless Oceans,

while inside this mirror

magic sky reflections

reveal my secret stare

thinking of naming this little flicker,

for so often i try speaking with breath

breathing between breaths,

recklessly sending unwrapped packages of photographic image tea bags

toppling into my wide open cup –

still, ?

? ? ?

? ? ? ?

? ? ? how could they all ? ? ? ? ?

have any chance ? ? ?

to exist separately? ?

? ?

?

unforgivingly,

these deathless verses

appear in a flash,

patching cracks in my world called Earth,

so when the warm snow begins

dropping its teardrops

upon the icy caverns of my grave,

may i be reminded

i was once very alive

Paterson

11/7/70