Berkeley Innovation

What can we know of whatever picture-plane
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
Looms in the air, deliberate and slow,
Before those virile women!
A salamander scuttles across the quiet
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Of tree-dividing sky finally comes down to
This drizzling three-day January thaw,
V. The Dutch in the Arctic
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush