I wear this winter like a cloak
Unlike past winters that have worn me.
Each visible puff of breath
Proof of existing (and
In spite of northerly wind
And bleakened landscape.
As I breathe life out into this bitter world
It breathes it back into me.
For on these cold winter nights
We are all chimneyed-factories,
Burning heat within and
Emitting puffs of steam
Against the long night sky.
I want to be a poet and a painter
A writer and a dancer
I want to capture the world as I see it
And dissect it to be examined
I want to empty my mind
With the light and dark of the world
And spend my days beneath broad leaves
Or even bare branches
The roots of trees hugging me
Without ever touching me
Pulling me in through the dirt
As I remain on top soil
Though I am not a plant
I would be lucky to be so green
And growing towards the sun
Happy New Year everyone! For the first year in a while, I don’t have any concrete resolutions this January first. What I do have is this: a new year with new thoughts, new energy, new longings.
Red lights through ink black blur.
Through windows, wet ice snow.
Slap-smack Slap-smack Slap-smack.
The windshield wipers’ drummer’s march
Calls ancient newborn eyes
To man the office post.