she loved cold winter nights
the way that most people
love summer warmth -
i think
it made her feel warmer
from the inside when it was
cold around her, like that way
she could pretend there wasn't
ice enveloping her heart.


cs

A road without road signs and faded paint, with ways that lead to every wrong direction. And we drove on that deep black ice throughout the night.
A dance that was no fun, and left a feeling of dissatisfaction, filled of bitter patterns. And god, it left us dying for water.
A recorder, with eyes that were too close together, and a mouth that would only open for a kiss.
The tape I played choked you up, and you died alongside me.
I had become what I never wanted to be.

In no way am I ready
for the bluster of winter
the deep freeze
and the ceasing of all things
green and growing

In no way am I prepared
for endless days of cold
the chill inside my house
and the greyness of the skies
for months on end

In no way am I ready
and yet
undaunted in the end
I am unwilling
to give up

Animals in Antarctica
All drinking liquor
Ice on the flow of water
Some snow there as well
Zounds of baby walrus shrimp
The have big beards, they are so weird
The baby walrus shrimp!


William James

Winter wizards dancing around my forthcoming saliva dripping tongue,
Desire for the frozen, dead landscape.
Like dreams that end and never start and like skies that are nothing and all at once...it dances around me forever and ever and the night is forever.
Yet, it ends when I look back upon it.
Yet, it ends when I look forward to it again.

The snow of melody falls and crashes.

The snow of love it burns and ashes.

The snow of life it lies and snatches.

The snow of faith it tries and thrashes.


Behold, the gate, in the northern light.

Behold, the wall, made of floating ice.

Behold, the shoes, covered in ice.

Behold, the pipe, wet with Christ.

Within I welcome crazy light,
Without I welcome sensible night.

Dancing and dancing, donning the cap of trees without leaves and horns from the graves before the seas.

Spinning the sun into suicide for a season.
Spinning the night into seeming forever season.

Spinning the story for the tale-born season.
Spinning the ice for this dead-earth season.

Ritual reborn, I call, into the night. (With thoughts, alone. No sprites of calling with my voice!)

Avast, and awaken in this frozen hill.

I await the spring, and until then....all is well in the endless white.

The endless white.

The endless white.