Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Novemberance

Foreshortened day,
unwelcome touch,
and unkind light.

I read the warnings,
count out their syllables. 

Then snow webs 
untidy, un-mappable, 
planting everywhere.

Racing, erasing my flesh, 
being, becoming my body.

_

clarity

 there is uncertainty: what to  say   even in the dignity of the world   preserved  in light,  the  lick  of                                ...