Ice Jams with Thunderous Snow

No matter, how I think of the earth. Its mastery still promises to astound me. The thrashing of ice block upon cumbersome block... I am a constant witness to miracles of creation's crime scene. There is no violent, thrashing, tale...quite the same. And, I am just a human pawn... In a loosing game.


Small Drippings of Arctic Awe

An arbitration of none... Stop enjoying the cold. Or... Stop and enjoy the cold. No more than a philosophy... than a pervasive frame of mind. New Hampshire elements do not mix with that which is... gentle or kind. I can take the small drippings of arctic awe. Or... transcend into an illusion of temperate novelty.

For My Stuttered Bones

If a freedom rang through the fog. What a delight it would be... for my stuttered bones. My body, seemingly, a fractured lawn ornament. In search of a new home. I turn, and face my hobble toward this mystic, mythic road. appendages nothing more than a mere icicle for the cold. Infantile, I still believe … Continue reading For My Stuttered Bones

Passing the Time

I count the squirrels in the trees. By doing so, I disavow pity. I count the bricks in a wall. By doing so, I am made ten feet tall. I imagine, varying sun. And, its spirituality will provide. I tally the tasks in which the earth confides.