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meditations on a long winter: a few new photos & poem fragments

January 21, 2009


The air itself drinks me.
Winter has never been so long,
drying and paling my skin
like rabbit hides, bleached
the palor of the snow I feed
but will not fall. I pray
that the heavy sky will cave.
But it hasn’t, and doesn’t still.


Our building is old.
I sit, bare but for the orbs
of red blood on my shins,
listening to the bath drain
through the walls. The shave
went badly– the razor too sharp,
or too dull, or me too quick
to skip the bruises, the callouses,
pale, hidden skins of winter.

I mourn the drop on the sheet,
the stain it will make, not half
so beautiful as its initial, oxygenated
poppy form. The brownness of it, drying.
The shame.


Women kill by poison. Why is that?
Let the body choke on itself.
Taint the meat, so it’s inedible,
no longer just a painted and dressed
waste of sustinance. Primed for nothing
but the waiting worms, whose most gluttonous,
most difficult and transitory selves will burrow
in the flesh, will make a home of death
and pursue their metamorphosis.

One Comment leave one →
  1. Garrett Macfalda permalink
    January 26, 2009 12:52 pm

    the first stanza here reminds me perfectly of a long Ohio winter- just heavy gray, gray forever, gray that dulls every color you see. I’m interested to see where this develops- I’m in a stage myself of lots of fragments now.

    Also, I very much appreciate the blogroll add. If you don’t mind, I’d like to add you to my Links page- email me or comment back to let me know that you don’t.

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