I read a book yester-
in my cold hard mull,
Sick lungs filling-
my frosted eyelashes, Now, double vision-
see what cannot be seen by common eyes
a winter wonderland
I wanted to know more.
Understand even a little,
of this deft transparent fragility.
so many forms
artistic genius of the cloud o'erhead
I can't begin to fathom-
light trapping, glinting- tinging like music-
pinging off their walls
as they twinkle through wind song
to silenced mounds.
kiss of ivory angel lips,
as they hit your cheek-
Needles of ice-
I could shoot up your beauty with,
trade red blood for blue
cold life felt.
reigning gun fire
from white and blue
ice like faceted diamond-
carved by none
into this unperceivable perfection.
Even the so called irregular crystals
I photographed frost,
trapped on window pane,
it was gold lit from firing pillar candles behind-
slow sexed silhouettes, nocturnal-
the seed planted in me
that started it all.
I dream here,
not of sunshine after rainfall,
not of the ensuing spectrum-
cutting the fruit of mind
to the expanse of the universal-