Excerpt from “The Webern Variations”

What to make of a season’s end,
the drift of cold drawn down
the hallways of the night,
the wind pushing aside the leaves?


The vision of one’s passing passes,
days flow into other days,
the voice that sews and stitches
again picks up its work


And everything turns and turns
and the unknown turns into the song
that is the known, but what in turn
becomes of the song is not for us to say

– Mark Strand

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