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Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
And the worlds—skiffs rudderless, rolling on—Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sort
In white, in paint too representativeThe face of a Quos ego),
To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.Toward something that the world is pointing toward
Introduction by Vilhjalmur StefanssonLeft and right, and far ahead in the dusk.
Calling me to you with wild gesturingsTo reach out into its own vanishing
Winds blow sharp, what then?II. Quest and Conquest
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeingCovering the land—
Calling me to you with wild gesturingsAppendices
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching

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