Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Baby Blue Snow

Snow makes hickory of summer.
My muscles feel tight around my bones
so I walk stiffly on ice. Oh winter
you don't match my moods anymore
warm sand is a lot like my methods
when you come into the room
I forget what I came here for.
Okay, let's get it on.

Reaching into wild Brooklyn
my hands are sure and tight meat
around bones making a good grip
on my skeleton. Snow last night:
shimmer city sparkle water is proof
to lift my heart in song, in punk I sing.
At the end of my rope is another ladder
now my movements seem certain
the snow distorts sound so the BQE
sounds like fingers sizzling on a pan
in a luxury hotel I want to get together.


Blogger Hannah Miet said...

My best response I can muster to your poems that I like and feel is usually:


So, yes.

11:52 PM  

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