302 As ice, is near-artistry, The still element impediment To a pale flame That burns still in a small room. . This finger's singular grasp Is sufficient to itself Yet its compass is a small round To orbits on a solar plane.
297 Vouchsafe yourself your soul your hidden memory, Your ungarmented being's wardrobe-- Frayed, mended, or new-fashioned selves-- Kept in closet. And in that instant be perhaps The sand on a beach patterned by a rain.
293 In the loss of affection one finds The mirror's seeming distortion true in its warp. Co-mingled regard dissolved, And this distillation in the glass beheld, There seems a diminution in sight. Dual apprehension divided: The remainder a bent single vision.
292 Without, it is motion's time-- The measure of bounded space Breeding seconds in the magined points' traverse. . Within, illusioned stillness mocks itself-- In the boundless confine Something unstill prevails.
287 It's salutary and normal To sin in religion as others do As others trembling laugh And pray and pay their living From fear's thick purse it's normal And salutary in guilt to lose one's way; else, Nature's unruled sheet guideless rules.
284 Matter undreamt, and dreams more To undo to surrender; to forgive The hard light columned, the sharp blossoms that cut And draw red finger's coils-- That coin and hello That dull-eyed queue That formulation of banal catastrophe: A coffee, a token, a strand of wicked hair.