Snow Moon

The short iris-colored night

wakes me from a dream

that seemed so long.

—photo by Greg Diesel Walck

Valentines' Day

grounded, windblown snow at sunset.

Unexpected, your leaving

over what? inclusion? exclusion?

dizzying.

all topography seems strange,

alien, threatening,

just when i committed to love.

won't you come back?

it's my fault,

goddammit.

Crossing the Mountain

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Snow on the pines

thus breaks the power

that splits mountains.

—Death poem of Shiyo, one of the 47 Ronin, who died

on the fourth day of the second month, 1703.

Monet as a Verb

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The frost that

spikes the wire is

no more worshipped

than the sunrise

that gilds the

silo domes or the

feathers of ice

that Monet the

farms beyond

the windshield.

—adapted from a poem of the same title by Matt Rasmussen, photo by Chad Lopez O'Brien

Climatology

Frisco Pier, Outer Banks.

What strange zone is this

another storm over the collapsing waves

the sea smoking and the mammals in panic

having lived all their tender lives

under the temperate illusion

that everything will be alright?

—photo by Daniel Pullen

Vanishment

Trail of a white-footed mouse

Yes the universe is expanding

feel it as the day falls down

everything ever farther from everything else

even dreams become solitary and uncontrollable

until you can't find your shadow

and you ride through the concept of time

without leaving a trace.

Self Reliance

Strength is a friend

as fickle as the rest

the saw and the wheel

the wedge and the maul

my companions

with muscle and bone.

I shall sleep this long night

in the heat of my will,

and what then?

Snow on Snow

Snow on snow begins again

before we reach the cabin

i would stop for awhile

steam rising from my skin

i'd  think of you again

though i've learned not to

so i keep going

have i told you it's still snowing?