when the silence of death
is louder than the noise of living
i ponder for a moment
which to choose

- p. winter

instrumental
dreamer

time free
to sight see

wide
down
corybantic
oval
perimeter
shedding
tiers

in a garden
of angels
sprinkled
with pine cones
at the border of
void and Vaud

cantons
of meltwater cirque
les petites Fauconnières
the inner basin
of my outer reaches

I am
your
visitor
I am
your
audience

let's
stop
for snow
and polar cap
songs
where things
are still run by the natural elements
instrumental dreamer
not by algorithms
not by advancement

by the wind
sending whispers
under my dress
standing *****
the hairs on my skin

I wish I was untouched
by the needle’s eye
I can walk through now
that I'm not sewn blind

I wish I was untouched
by the grains of sand
the pendulum swinging
the two moving hands

I wish I was untouched
by the papers, I’ve seen
in the darkroom
how the red light burned
how they’re turned in the trays
hung by a clothespins
put on display

Winter stands on flat frozen feet.
Cold circles swirl, move and in
daylight masquerade.I am
blinded by the stinging swirl.
Here, near my window,
the cat's bowl rests
on the dark plank floor

This season's Specter, the
Ghost days wipe all memory
of high soft summer winds,  
a deep water, strong
and free summertime songs.

May I be patient with this winter
cold mutt of a gun down on the
wide hipped grey trench which
in summer feeds my poetry.

You may ask why I seldom write
these days.

I wait for you. I warm  
that for which you are
not responsible.
But like Mable in my poems

you sing.


Caroline Shank
2.10.22