no one bears witness for the witness
Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!
rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this.
He speaks truly who speaks the shade.
The poem is lonely. It is lonely and en route. Its author stays with it. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?
Death is a master from Germany.