Berkeley Innovation

In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Allowing me to let your picture form and wake
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
And I would like
Of too much truth to do much more than lie
The paths of childhood.
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows,
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Mère and Père Chose are walking away from the
At San Biagio, in the most intense room
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
II. Quest and Conquest
Snow haze gleams like sand.
Event, the end of the painted road ends up