Subject: Calvin

From: "nicolai killian" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2007 23:28:53 +0100

Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
In white, in paint too representative
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
Standing in the way of the truth. A white
will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.
Come, swallows, it's good-bye.
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
The line between the outside and this room
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
At the white place of the road's vanishing
Oh you builders,
My keyhole blows a gale
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape