White Wind / Frozen layering like ice sheets, / Yet wicked and swift, / It carves and scours its path.
Arcturus / Leader of the lucida in their nightly procession, / The key: receiver of lightning
Eurydice didn’t look quite so lost yesterday / as I passed the sculpture garden on the way to class.
An ice footprint stays / long after maker is gone / snowfall soon obscures.
The secondary rain shower / trickles from the leaves of the honey locust
wispy thoughts drift / across the dome of the sky / as I lay here / supported on the warm earth / in the stillness of the / wind
Staring at blank faces while I speak / they’re like walls, plain and blank and even without interest; / now I’m frustrated and careless but flabbergasted nonetheless / as my tone it gets higher, the pace, it gets faster
I am content to know/ The protecting embrace of a maple/ Shielding me/ From harsh January winds/
After the Ides of March, four hundred / thousand pure casualties. / Darkness stole the glossy white pearl / Icy tundra untainted, solitary.
You ARE a moment/ you are a mystery/ blooming into infinity