Tag Archives: Winter
Quite simply, the curlicue flake of snow kisses the child’s lashes, and winter’s slow hidden pink marvels in its own tender praises. Advertisements
It is strange, and indelibly touching, how a sacrifice to the winter gods and summertime sadness co-exist as one and the same thing.
Get on with your dying, Coyote urged. It is time. I was scared. I was scared of the unknown. I was scared of letting go. Scared of dissolving my identity. Who would I become? That is the nature of metamorphosis, … Continue reading
On the day the Trickster died in vain Winter set in to consecrate its crucifix and initiate the changing of seasons.
A man in a bulky white parka is running across a snowy landscape. The hood pulled over his head is lined with seal-gray fur. He is wearing plastic goggles that are caked in frost. … Continue reading
She, full of secret pines, shadow-limbed beneath a pale disc of winter sun, waltzing solo in snow-caked hills, blood-red quill tucked behind her left ear, just in case the urge to climb spires and trace spheres via a fierce run … Continue reading
Nightwalk in a small town. Moonbleached adobe set against the snowglobular shakedown of flakes, as if dandruff from the itchy shaved scalp of God was falling, a phosphate rhapsody. Along the road, mudskinned snowdrifts, like albino coal-miners, crouching, or dispossessed … Continue reading
Boy and girl, sledding tongues, no words— Winter, gloves off.
Winter’s brides, wearing long white scarves of sleet and song, touching pale sky to blue lips, breathing memory and frost; their sorrow and spectral want grows hands that enclose me, a robust crush, matrimonial in its grip, until I am … Continue reading
Birdless solitude, Winter’s song, slow, deep, solemn– Musing upon spring.