Spoems

As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
Scrawny wolves, and you,
Life, or only joy, that stands out
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
Dim, and die tonight?
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
Onto my frozen fingers.
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
Appendices
Partly stone, partly the absence of stone,
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Everywhere, utterly.
III. Earliest Recorded Northern Explorers: The Greeks and the Vikings
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
(Our fortitude grows dim in
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,

VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
But when, on the timepieces that we call
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead
Snow haze gleams like sand.
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
And I would like
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
That patch of white at the very end of the road
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
At these masses the snow hides from me.
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking

The paths of childhood.
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
Glimmering of light:
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
From there. Toward . . .
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
And the wide arrowhead the road itself
Before those virile women!
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
And I would like
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Covering the land—
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
Glimmering of light:
III. Earliest Recorded Northern Explorers: The Greeks and the Vikings
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they

All three bits of verse via spam asking me to download Adobe Photoshop CS3 for only $89.

Heh.