traces of snow, black earth, roots
of devils hands that grasp at frost,
walls stenciled with cold growth,

a far dog coughs open a winter sunday
but we are scared to peek under the crust,
so we tick and turn, waiting for

a dark better than this, come soon...
the light of your eyes has become
pale and diffuse, here and longer in ice

To love
you must find
where light convenes at daybreak
brooding

You must search
beyond impending greenery
assertive lace and pirate flower

Below the clouds of spring
that can’t—
be seriously taken

Behind time’s betrayal
where vined lattice
cages fragments of a smile

Why sophisticate such sense?

Far more to the extent
of will and heart extended
taste is answered
unaware
of when the sweet was gone

For presence is!
when savored sources—linger
...in their endings
known—and not resigned

Melted...quiescent...priestly moment

It’s not Zenith!
but Twilight

who drops her eyes!

To love
you must—
must love

beyond...below...behind

I'll wake up
Mundy morning
dead tired
from restless
dreams about
the forbidden sound
of fish on ice,
a harmonica
full of ants,
cat paws that fall
in the night,
the breathing
of waterfalls,
the depth
of mountain roots
and falling soot
from the fires
of Viking pyres.