March 21, 2007
March 12, 2007
OEM version question
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Where, as I discover as I go through
Centimeters—that the height of the canvas
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
Wheezing ravens, when
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
This gap in time, this season not their own,
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
I don't know if this was spam or meant to be posted, but here it is.
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Where, as I discover as I go through
Centimeters—that the height of the canvas
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
Wheezing ravens, when
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
This gap in time, this season not their own,
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
I don't know if this was spam or meant to be posted, but here it is.
