Life Cycle of the Cabbage White Butterfly

Examining for mixed motives the flaws/That turned their city-cousins ash-/Grey. She labels one Snow-in-Ghana,/As though she doesn’t trust her own desire.”

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My mad uncle had the Burma jungle/In his head—burnt-out tracts of history/He’d stalk in ambush of his sanity”

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Death of the Polar Explorers

Doubt/Never stunned the marrow in their bones/Who rose above the merely physical,/And if they faltered, it was only once—”

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