stanza
the turn lands here A snowy creek in bright blue

from Unseen Buds

Unseen buds, infinite, hidden well,Under the snow and ice, under the darkness, in every square or cubic inch,

17 · the drift A snowy creek in violet dusk A snowy creek in blue Blue sky clouding over

Germinal, exquisite, in delicate lace, microscopic, unborn,Like babes in wombs, latent, folded, compact, sleeping;Billions of billions, and trillions of trillions of them waiting,(On earth and in the sea—the universe—the stars there in the heavens,)Urging slowly, surely forward, forming endless,And waiting ever more, forever more behind.

18 · the overprint An orange river at sunset, the trees streaming toward it

A Prairie Sunset

Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn,The earth’s whole amplitude and Nature’s multiform power consign’d for once to colors;The light, the general air possess’d by them—colors till now unknown,No limit, confine—not the Western sky alone—the high meridian—North, South, all,Pure luminous color fighting the silent shadows to the last.

19 · the run-around A path into green woods

from Song of Myself, § 6

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

20 · the overlap A misty river, its trees reflected The misty river in amber light

from Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face!Clouds of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also face to face.

an asterism
21 · the filmstrip
scroll sideways →
Orange and black, like embers on bark Deep red, crazed like old lacquer Red and magenta leaves on wet ground The sun breaking through grasses in brown light Late sun through trees, in amber Red-tinted branches against a pale sky A teal mist over a dark hillside
22 · the flipbook
Dark brown and gold, mottled like smoke A cloudy stain of grey and violet, a second tint A worn, tinted surface of blue and sand, like clouds, a third tint
23 · the fracture

A Clear Midnight

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,

Tree shadows across blue snow

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,Night, sleep, death and the stars.

the colophon

Pictures by Todd Stabley.Words by Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass.