Sunday, January 07, 2007

.





I'd like to say
oh!
it snowed


with words that repeat like
ontology:
it's there it's there


as of to feel
his lip
on the glass,

the long occassion
of retired umbrellas,

cold window sills,
rusty hinges,
hands

and

white
white






1 Comments:

Blogger Joseph Gallo said...

This poem is a delicate tatting of ice-kissed lace, in shadow and silence, the story unfolding as if drifting from the taken crown of a felled tree.

Very nice, thus, I am saving it.

2:01 p.m.  

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