Warm December

Sunlight flowers in winter:
one morning you brought them to me
so I could breathe
forsythia.

Yellow salve in the sky
on Christmas Eve. (The next day gray,
we suffocated in its
congested color,

longed for yesterday.)
As if sun tea on the deck,
clear cold steeps ripe red
and yesterdays become

wept pools of snow
feeding the early forsythia.

an excuse

the macaroni stuck
to the red rust
black bottom
new release boilerplate
left handed, hates snow
tried to grow a moustache
& spots showed in the
stubble in the conversation
a pause, a dent, an aluminum scrape
heating away the hydrogen
perfect penne in 11-12
silent staring at the floor
at the coil of red metal
should be doing
without a timer
leftover
in the sink
two weeks later.

pocket compost (poetry fusion with Erin & Emily)

snow melting, a grayscale
reduction to green, a drip
drop a stream sputtering a (seasonal)
war’s last bombshells.

ice shattering like teacups
against a wall, she picked
up a fragment to remember
where winter is real a

long, fat torpedo of ice
put in her pocket.
She came home to me melting,
the middle of school longing to

be mine & slipping love notes
into her pockets without eye contact
the folded sailboats float,
skimming over the ice

my latest invasion of space, the sailboats paper bouquets
slowly unzipping, memories
discharged; you brushing your teeth,
orange slice shadows—the half moons

glowing peeled &
I threw them away before you were
ready, so now you collect
a stream in your pocket, as not to forget

winter, oranges, & the moon.

spring [throwback SPINBALL FIGHT]

cultural currency update
while white computer screens
load
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a walk in
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa crunching snow
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa white indents
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa foot prints
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa perfect for
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa packing
instant access
rolling down scrolling snowballing
screen
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa collecting
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa in drifts
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa each unique
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa crystal
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa blends to
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa pure vanilla
(democratic) society is
based on consensus, a
percentage of agreeability
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the tighter
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I pack flakes
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa between red
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa mittens the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa more time she
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa has to throw
just two sides shaping
policy & echo chambers
reinforcing ideas
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I am intentionally
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa missing her; snow
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa over shoulder
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa just
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the sound
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa slipping by
influencing events
through the exclusion
of information
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa she knows
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I am missing
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa & when I
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hit her in
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the back a
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa puff of snow
spin a ball of flattery
a snow job to
crystallize public opinion
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa leaning low
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa as she aims
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa for my head,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa waiting for
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa an icy
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa blast
a two-way flow
of snow
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa warm breath
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa from my mouth
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa to hers
or nothing at all.

watching time pass in piles of snow

the long weekend, enhanced by snowfall

a silent sky of snow falls like static, muted

START/END

Sugar, when five pounds piled, looks like snow but tastes sweeter.