In eternity There is no storyFor in the simultaneity of everything compressedTo one round mosaicedBead on a bracelet The story flattensout And sinks back To its originGlints of what? Lost in color LostIn a room's flow In a street's flowof luminosity Flecked with gestureWith sayings cries And twinges 'I am trying to I am trying toBecome the heroine Of my story'But there is no suchShape to life There are flowersGrowing up from earth There arerocks In damp grey day of snowThis day passes Leaves no mark that lastsUnless you cling to it Humans cling toit To days To shapes To patternsTo say 'I won't cling again' It- self makes a dramatizingMarking of oneself A clinging astory-making 'I won't cling OhI won't cling on Let it snow on meForever And cover up The outlinesOf what I do and feel Let it
Snow between and over My thoughts andfeelings For they are nothingAnd all there is is snow All therereally is Is snow'
-Alice Notley