These snows of February
are like the cave-making snows
of old; when snow-giants
roamed the Earth
& the only language
we spoke  
was Glacial.

Science is
the magic
of our age.

I want
the old world
back.

Everything I was ever taught about _______
(choose as many as apply)
Society
History
Politics
Science
Religion
Relationships
Authorit­y
I need to

a trail of ink spills  
past lanterns & statues
on the bridge.
orange flares streak across
your glasses; it is true night now.
if truth is forgotten, who
will weave our amnesia?
not I, or you, nor the one
whose fiction we follow
into the forgotten works.

Brother John,
unfurl your purple banner,
let the peace dove soar
above Grafton township
proclaiming victory
over endless oppression.
Ring the chapel bell,
light the candles
in the sanctuary,
shelter us with tea &
the word of God.

Brother John,
the forecast is gray.
I want to hear the truth.
I want to hear your voice
as the world grows dark.

Brother John,
will we ever forgive our transgressions?
Will we survive the winter intact
to bloom once more into the flower of art?
How do we find our pathway back
to our spirit?

Now is time to travel within.
Pray. Forgive.
Create peace. Walk with God.
Make magic.

It's the last day of the year. I didn't
expect things to turn out like this:
branded, shamed, shedding adolescence,
crossing into adulthood, seeking redemption.
This is not the desert, or a mesa, nor a mirage.
There is shelter here somewhere.
I just need to keep my eyes open.

Intersections in the sky:
Lines that loop and spread
white to grey from
horizon to horizon.
Then the rain.
Stars vanish,
moons rise & set,
& at the foot of
this mountain
we are no longer asleep.