death in ice valley, body badly burnt, a stranger's coming past distinctive marks removed, suitcases contained a coded note, mysterious meeting with a naval officer all song of the wood, isotope tests on teeth and jawbone, the only parts unburied ate porridge for breakfast, tree roots wound through, there are no flowers after so long in the earth, secret police did investigate, I think she tired of her job and killed herself we took the funicular up the mountain, pass white wooden houses, with hawthorn and conifer morning starting from a frail cobweb, I waited too long, a wooden cross was placed pink sleeping pills, a packed lunch of liquor, plastic bottles held gasoline I am working out the difference, between another, in whatever language I hear found a burned out passport, fingertips sanded away, labels removed from every piece of clothing she owned, she was fond of porridge and milk, changed rooms after checking in, the altered forms irretrievable words, provocative dress, another unknown decedent a story oft-repeated, bodies taken from the water, details in the visage lost a fashionable morbid fixture, I'm told a whole generation of German girls modeled their looks on her, erotic ideal of the period, that savage god, a young one who drowned, all of human history a lie a forged manuscript, ophelia l'inconnue, fluttered right into the lamp of life lethal eyes of language, thus our wandering will be infinite, brass cylinder full of gears clock face made of rotating plates, kether and malchut, the faces are murky catastrophic din, gradually died away, after a night of bliss the nurse probably envisioned distributing nourishing waters, our clandestine lives, through subterranean acquifers an elder titan, wrestled and cast in the circling sea, bull-horned with serpentine tail that which is invoked, poured earth, spirit immanent in the burial mound absit omen, he must do as you would if you were, how poor and narrow nonsensical questions thrown together from tidbits, barrage of recurring signs, an inclination of the spirit you have no choice, as above so below, a screaming torso wearing antlers for the most part they pass quickly, erase evidence of the passage of time, to relearn history people reincarnate, this is the cave where they were laid to rest, who is false and who is not the thrill of process in lieu of practical end, also called the song of Moses, the woman crowned with twelve stars pained in travel, in the midst of his rivers, he dried the sea for the ransomed to pass over who fired was beaten and torn, then set him free to drift, to worship the beast and his image and receive his mark full many a wight, woe for this wretched woman then began, the thief fell overboard and in the sea was drowned, in the blessing beyond, the loser's left alone disconsolate, rehearsing what he'd thrown, one asks to be remembered fend off the pressing throng, in unknown sound and permutation, of living near the drain I in that persistent pack was such, making promises, escaped their clutch his wonders in the deep, you are still my brothers, dingy streets and smoking furnace chimneys shut up in a factory all day long, nothing before his eyes but his loom, man made the world streets and shops and machinery in which that poor workman lives and dies, forgets the god, the round world, so fast it should not move, given the sea its bounds, it should not overflow, too safe on shore, that beautiful earth to till and keep, man may cut and change but he cannot change the sea!