Herman Melville’s Book of Four Sentences
The snow fence could be seen
leaving a woman who’s eating cold noodles.
It’s not made of abandoned bee boxes
like a medieval famine in Japan.
Here, the Quaker whalers
are scaling a ladder
into the idealized heavens.
made of fresh DNA of snow fence:
these pious hunters
are screaming and waving to their children:
they sigh and say, bye-bye:
bleeding like glaciers,
like the receding hairline of acacia
on Mt. Sinai . . .
Behind the Old Soldiers’ Hospital
Cantor, Frege & Gödel:
Not the Bathing Tank at Madras: A Romance
South Boston Morning, ’53:
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