Subject: OEM Licence

From: "Angie Harding" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 19 Dec 2006 20:10:35 -0180

Away, my songs, must we go
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to pass
For any part of them we can make out
XIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the Tegetthoff

Pierced by the mist that fades away,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
Are muffled into silence that refuses
To pick up even the quickening of wind
Sits at the limit of a kind of world
This third day of our January thaw,
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
Sought to contrive, intending to express