WINTER

　

Winter

is a dead man’s game

north wind bellowing insults

cutting

stinging

anvil-like solidity

beneath stiffening toes

hunched over like a drunken climber

dodging a glacier’s vengeance

Breath

in vaporous gulps

stammering in January dialect

iron landscapes

severed flatland carcass

spires of ice

hard-shell rapidity

over sun flecked roofs

serrated crescents of frost

marking the windows

sparrows skidding

across crusted canyons

dissected by diagonal planks

of waning light



light starved voices

wailing against the entombment of the season