Standing in the way of the truth. A white
To follow in the path of their brief blossoming
This perfection, this absence.
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
watching calisthenics from the grandstands.
And still my mind going, groping in the mud to bring
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape
I might have lived from some other childhood
Happily blurring the terrain,
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
XIII. The Route to the North
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
At these masses the snow hides from me.
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
In stone waves and rock waters, far from day.