Poets

TO BE A LANDSCAPE, TO BE A MAJESTIC LANDSCAPE on the drumlin topped with firs that froth with cones; a snow-white landscape, with veins like the wind's footsteps, to be a landscape, a noble landscape crossed

1 Or — maybe he never existed at all?! Maybe there was only

The world did not invade my soul, it seeped into it it did not break into my heart, it ate into it. It spent long wakeful nights in the corner of my room, a radiance round its head like a halo.