By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,
Erhebung without motion, concentration
Without elimination, both a new world
And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.

“… not from the world of truthfulness but from the babble of literary gossip –
there is no truth in it at all.”
But they rejected his clarification preferring citation to creation.
It begins to snow: a fine dust swift becoming a white wet whirling shower
We lean into the squall shouting some but finally silenced by the storm
Until soaked and nearly numb you lead me into the Four Seasons