Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
Never does any motion, sound, or light
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
That this mud draws on the stone
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
Oh you builders,
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted
I do not betray you, I still go forward,
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
And off the white smoke swims
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
More beautiful than anything in this world.
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,