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kyle-kulsethPoems
Thaw out frozen thoughts shoulders hunched against the sleet stride crunching on the downbeats familiar haunts are blurring Hurried northward daydreams don't trickle south through Douglas Firs But remember how our paths crossed? Stargazers both--I balked first 4 blocks down, I'm held accountable for crusade hypocrisies I keep tucked in my back pockets and rolled up in uprolled sleeves The sun returns, or so I'm told but it's been evening for awhile. And, if they're wrong, where are we then? Left knowing we're left under miles                          of mounting snow? Left knowing we've got to stop--                    but not one clue how to cope Wondering where hours, weeks and years went counting calendars we've peeled off walls Counting marks on records                marks on faces Counting calendars Tally scars--stubborn reminders      of how we got where we are. Ground my skyward thoughts in the grid of frozen streets I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost coats the ground, turns steps to beats I'll keep time, now, walking westward hands in pockets, eyes on feet. I'll remember how your breath looked off of Brooks Street walking east.
0
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
Thawing Point
Thaw out frozen thoughts shoulders hunched against the sleet stride crunching on the downbeats familiar haunts are blurring Hurried northward daydreams don't trickle south through Douglas Firs But remember how our paths crossed? Stargazers both--I balked first 4 blocks down, I'm held accountable for crusade hypocrisies I keep tucked in my back pockets and rolled up in uprolled sleeves The sun returns, or so I'm told but it's been evening for awhile. And, if they're wrong, where are we then? Left knowing we're left under miles                          of mounting snow? Left knowing we've got to stop--                    but not one clue how to cope Wondering where hours, weeks and years went counting calendars we've peeled off walls Counting marks on records                marks on faces Counting calendars Tally scars--stubborn reminders      of how we got where we are. Ground my skyward thoughts in the grid of frozen streets I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost coats the ground, turns steps to beats I'll keep time, now, walking westward hands in pockets, eyes on feet. I'll remember how your breath looked off of Brooks Street walking east.
kyle-kulseth
Written by
kyle-kulseth
M/American
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
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