84 pages, Paperback
First published January 1,1960
3.5 stars
I can only say that the poems in this book are "unique".
Are you fucking kidding meee?????????????????????:
A body of whiteness,
Rots and emits a putrid smell beneath its headstone,
Even though the body once walked out in clean linen.
I detect that whiteness here, beneath the stones,
Where tiny ants roll their eggs and grubs grow fat.
Death may manifest as whiteness, whether in the sun or not.
Death whitens both within the egg and outside of it.
I am unable to perceive any specific color for this whiteness.
White: it is a complexion of the mind.
I grow weary, envisioning white Niagaras
Accumulating from a rock root, just as fountains build
Against the imposing image of their descent."