daily-life/drifting in deep-white to no purpose

i’d

say what 

saves us is

remove — the bobsled’s blue-

steel-

 

flashing-runners against the blue snow

 

as

we slip

into the — fall-

out — bunkered blindness: deracinated

sublimity

 

revolving sweetness . . .

 

yet — 

the afterbirth 

is troublesome — & what 

to do when no horses/no king’s men:

no queen&women to put it together again — 

           bruise/the broken crown/the-

 

all-fall-down?