Spring 1956 • Vol. XVIII No. 2 Poetry |

Knowledge of Age

Knowledge of age Begins in winter, a thin-railed whistling gate Under sonorous pines, A few shivering paces, and so far, From the stone house and all its hearths. A slow slow seethe Of snow across banana branches Illumined on a silk of sky Distinctly green, although no arch is there Or any stone or structure, Is sino-savagery, gentler than any Italy's (On endless terraces of wine-stained space Only plump cherubs play). So when, an afternoon bruised as November, All in a park, nine small suede reindeer Feed on green moss       And city's heaven sunders to a Swift appropriate blue, Memory of last year's summer shrivels Without nostalgia or any Salve or sanction. Anatomist, make distinct this bone from the Bone of the uncorrupted dead.

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The Apex Animal

By Margaret Avison

Knowledge of age Begins in winter, a thin-railed whistling gate Under sonorous pines, A few shivering paces, and so far, From the stone house and all its hearths. A slow […]

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