"icewall" poems
I guess I don't get it and that's fine,
The rumblings, the gestures,
The contact...it's all alien,
What lies beneath the icewall is visible yet I can't pry in.
I can't get to the other side.
All to be is passive,
All to do is stomach the ride.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
open door ; icewall
crusted as a rabid eye
all the change of skin in frost
a bedouin of snow,
consider the end;
white room; stiff starch
the soft slide of slippers
along linoleum
winter's partner ; a slower cold
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 4:45 AM UTC