Saturday, September 29, 2007

Attack on the Artic

Snow haze gleams like sand.
With its lament, it often sounds,
Instead, my mind goes groping in the mud to bring stars
And still, the last day, endless and genderless,
Figures of light and dark…
It's snowing,
It’s returning to a town
Rattling, gasping its last.
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
He never even dreams,
From point to point of meaning
—open? Closed?—
After all, when finally one comprehends…
Snow haze gleams like sand


Molly Bloom said...

Lots of levels to this Inc. Melting points, what we we see things last. All sorts of imagery and levels of meaning.

Pod said...

this is great
i shall ponder on it today

Crafty Green Poet said...

I enjoyed this, especially the line groping in the mud to bring stars