SWEDEN'S HARRY MARTISON

On ice his echo freezes
by a landscapes wood
birds stare from treetops
as chimeras of snow
smokes a cloud in the sky
a reveler with a red scarf
hears the swaying breeze
to his unknown words
his voice as memory
in a forest of berries
of aimless hands touching
this mountain rain
makes a poet's eyes
to be recognized
amid a pair of gloves
and one ski
is discovered on a slope.