1 To William
...When sun wipes shadows off your face,
But snow fills up your laughing mouth,
You're going north
Though going south,
Where you forget your name, craft, craze --
Your checkered jacket
And cigar,
Your theatre of illusive joys,
Your silence
Loaded with your words
(The bullets never
Shooting out),
The language game of useless lies,
Your want to touch with hands
And mouth,
When you approach Antarctic south
With walls of glass,
With walls of ice...
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