Sir star, Herr Lenz, white season body br master snapping masts in half, absent br winds’ workmanship: what window br will I look you through, what brook, stream br br creaking past fretwork weeds, clouds br in the context of cold? Lord knot br to be untied, skiff hard alee ill winds: br a hiss of wish and cinders and I br br am warm, crossing dazed oceans by hand br to sow the doubtful sea with drought. Mine br of rain and seize and sluice, you change br br your mind again, a rage for green waves’ br open vowels, undrinkable. No talking br to the weeds, no talking with the snow.