17 February 2006

Barbara Guest (1920-2006)

I go separately
We have reached the arithmetics, are partially quenched
while it growls and hints in the lost trapper's voice
She is coming toward us like a session of pines
in the wild, wooden air where rabbits are frozen
O mother of lakes and glaciers save us gamblers
whose wagon is perilously apt.

    "Santa Fe Trail" (1958)

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