the clouds hinted of old bedsheets
left on too long
and then the fog fell clammy
in a downing with the sun
and we were so cold
the wet seemed like wind
and the turns in the road
like twists in a tortured gut
until the steam rose with bravado
from the lonely sugar shack.
You see power lines and I see twilight clinging to itself. You see a cardinal and call it a representative and I say visitant and eventually we agree on angel.
Read more "The Theory of Electromagnetism"For a moment in the calm, between gusts of wind: the faint push of air beneath wing. The northern harrier drifts above a flowering field of yellow mustard. Bobbing among the eddies, the murre learn centuries of the waterwork and currents, driven unthinking by what we cannot know.
Read more "North"The Grays The grays are worse than the blues… At least you can write a song about the rich cobalt-feeling of sadness. The grays settle like a cloak of smoke, leaving you voiceless and dry-eyed, with nothing so satisfying as a good cry. The grays have nothing to give, not even tears. Wraith-like, they confuse […]
Read more "The Grays"Winter Woods White mist drifts through rain-wet pines. Walking through the forest feels like a waking dream. Rubber soles against dark earth, plastered with shed leaves. Looking up, the sky is no-color. A counsel of cedars surrounds me. The further the trees, the more suffused in mist, until the world becomes a sea of clouds. […]
Read more "Winter Woods"
Visitant 