When the pack ice closes in and the evening ends only to begin,there comes a point when you realise
you cannot win.
The world will spin but you do not because you're rooted to the spot and you haven't got a clue,you don't know what to do and so you freeze.
The morning breeze unfreezes you but still you don't know what to do and you shiver in the early air wishing you were anywhere but here,
and the fear you feel is just as real as shadows that you cast,though you know deep down that fear like shadows fades away and does not,cannot last.
The summer comes,that evening goes but you felt the melt of snow along your spine
so you sit and wait 'til it gets quite late and you do it all the time,but time is moving on and you're still rooted to the spot,still without a clue,still do not know what to do and really there's no helping someone who's closed off like you.
The ice holds tight
for some the night will never end and some will never lend their eyes to gaze upon the clear blue...
lights and skies and butterflies and I have wandered through the why's and wherefore's
stored multitudes of memory in the rack,been there and back and still the ice pack closes in,
this spin of mine ,this start and stop and waste of time,this snow that melts along my spine,
in the shallows of my mind I dine alone.

Sunlight cups the water wind.
Wisper the cold valley into my head.
Moutain edges cut the horizon for miles and miles.
Wet stone like charcoal
Dipped in Irish green moss
Caught in the ocean mist.
Standing in the icy creek with waterfall water washing at my skin. Light blissfully rests on my closed eye lids.
Feel the ground.
Empathy for the folds in the valley light that crawls along magnificent for infinity.
I can feel the dandelion spores.
They swing on strings and bring the clouds down.
Down.
They pick apart all the clouds until it snows.
Snow silently crystallizes leafless birch trees.
Winter flows in every direction until the creek unfreezes.

Where it is cold,
ice can peacefully be.
It won't bother anyone,
not you, not me.

But once it gets warm,
it will start to melt.
Not fast, but slow,
but it is still felt.

And as it gets hot,
the ice starts to run.
It's sad and it's lonely
and not anything fun.

And once it is melted,
the ice is no more.
Just a sad little puddle,
Defenseless and poor.

Will it get back, to the cold
where happy it was a time?
Can it freeze again,
and end up just fine?

Once it unfreezes,
it can freeze again.
But it won't feel the same,
it won't be ever again.

For each time ice melts,
it loses some of its heart,
and when nothing's left,
everything goes dark.

So if you see ice
somewhere it's not cold,
please keep it from melting,
you need not be told.

I met the devil on the razor edge of Pembroke and Third
While the corner cafe stealthily sold me hunger
In the scent of overburnt croissants and coffee spills.

You've got flecks of him in your eyes, you know,
They're the color of an impassioned yellow sky,
And your mouth froths a bit like boiling water.

And your laugh barks like a mangy dog
That's found another final meal
In a pool of scraps and pigeon blood.

The ground is too flat here, and the world too grey.
The wind whistles too loud and cars
Are leaving me behind in too much of a hurry.

But this is just a stop, just a chance meeting
With another glimpse of the devil
Until the bus unfreezes time in this toy town.

Until I can hide with the rats in the darkest
Corners of buggy bright lights
And share a bed with another devil in another station.

In a winter reflection, through a cage of ice,
I watch a shadow of myself love you.
From a sunken place, I’m stuck,
Endlessly pacing within my head,
I’m stuck, a lonely, hungry tiger.
The coldness fills me slowly
as I watch you from my prison.
The bars to my cage pretend to bend,
but it is only a trick of the sun.
I refuse to leave the cage
even though I have the key,
for safety
for sanity
for selfishness
I swallow the key often.
The cage will melt eventually
so I will wait until then,
It is hard to hate for so long
in conditions like this
where every day the water freezes
and unfreezes and freezes.
It is hard to hate when her hands melt the ice.
Love freezes the pain and drips away everything else
Into the gutter, but the sun always falls, still.

At the bottom of the earth,
Where the mother of the wind lives,
and the flowers of the graves
spin the yarn of wick thoughts.  

At the bottom of the earth,
Where butterflies flap their wings
on the paths of bungling scalpers,
hoping that the mother typhoon’ll move the sand grain of barren spirit.

At the bottom of the earth,

The mother of the wind is senseless,

The mother of the mountain fires life and forges death,

The mother of the sea’s whirling its flow upstream,

The mother of the winter unfreezes
the wings of the blizart on the icy stones,

The mother of the roses draws breath
from the fragrance of grief,

The mother of the wildernes’burning
the roots of thirst,

The mother of the black sea’sipping life from palmier trees,

The mother of the moon running trough iron clouds, like nebula through the light,

The mother of the earth gives, and gives, and gives,
Gives you everything you need,

At the bottom of this earth,
Only you human are dreaming to stay caved in eternity.

Two forces come together,
Bringing change and clarity.
Razor sharp, crystal clear,
A frozen rarity.

The air is crisp and certain,
White with innocence, laughter rings.
A fresh snow and with it,
A fresh start it brings.

The air will soon warm,
Crisp uncertainty unfreezes.
Inevitably, muddy earth will follow,
For ice melts as it pleases.

“Messages,
   trapped in the wind

Words,
   burrow deeply within

Voices,
  emerge from the past

Memories,
  and dreams overcast”

Leaves fall,
  branches reach for the sky

Winter clouds gather,
  snow starts to fly

Furloughed—the seeds
  march distant and free

The season long,
  its transients flee

Vision impaired,
  past futures to fade

Acceptance—rejection,
  a choice to be made

The first Nightingale sings,
  its call from beyond

A feeling unfreezes,
  old words to a song

The hills begin thawing,
  new tracks to reveal

Salvation once promised,
  no longer concealed

Winds from the west,
   bring rebirth and enthrall

The sun melting lies,
  —and winter recalled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)