Friday, September 12, 2008

sand and snow

this poem has nothing to do with sand and snow
but with vancouver, with the birds pulled in from 
the ocean, inwards and out above the folding water

presently, i am concerned with these birds, fashioning
a single letter above the steel waves and the cold sand. 
there are other birds of this universe. there are peacocks
which shake their feathers like a deck of cards being 
shuffled or several brooms quickly sweeping the floor of a 
cave. excuse me for a moment: "put on your mittens, if 
you're going outside." i apologize, but, you see, when the
blue pines freeze the town in winter like refrigerator coils,
you can catch cold. the tennis courts close, and no graceful
leaps of stretching or reaches choreograph themselves on
its key lime map. and, O, my god, am I tired, am I tired,
tired of silhouettes arriving in the fire. tired of the sand
smothering the snow for the sake of the tire. 

1 Comments:

Blogger Pete said...

damn man, the shit's real.

September 12, 2008 at 9:08 PM  

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