Tuesday, December 06, 2016

all furrows to them a kind light.

in the morning you will know
better, the sun in these crystalline clouds
is full of the abstract, so that
the winter is always
full of realizations
(the air is without weight
from shedding all these words like gifts
upon the windows' margins,
from trying to speak its whispers through)

but one
cannot
care for each in the way
it should be done, all the long nights till spring
with all the furrows numb upon your face;
howsoever the freeze may whisper well those wildly
intricate sayings sown
from less feeble a sun.