written in midtown Manhattan while waiting for a bus, last year, and dedicated to anyone who has been cold latest lately.*

sustained winds
magic-make
20 degrees
feel like zero,
waiting for the M57 bus
that cannot
iceman cometh
soon enough.

bus shelter soldier
marching to and fro,
a guardsman on duty,
passing the he-waiting time
by dream reviving
last night's pastime,
secret activity,

like coffee cup
comet tail sips,
re-image, re engage,
re-heat just enough,
to temper and mind deceive.

recall dreams of painting,
the frame,
already hung,
the naked white wall,
blank canvas,
dreams are time to experiment.

what I paint, however,
extends beyond the frame,
the mind visions,
landslide down,
secreted colors,
images, born and lifted,
upward bound,
street steam rising,
from wall to sky,
letters float.

tho scarfed and gloved,
my painted words,
crisp and crackle,
boundary break,
extend beyond the frame.
wind-chill
tactile exterior defeated,
the burn
of mind creativity
succeeds.

Jan 24th 2013
2:42 AM