And Mere Chose's square of world, even as they
I know,
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
Scrawny wolves, and you,
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
Oh you builders,
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape
She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are
Are muffled into silence that refuses
Not daring to oppose
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
So, startled, quivering,
Everywhere, utterly.
Is it almost honey, is it snow?