Sunday, August 9, 2009

January: Year-day 24

January: Year-day 24 And the delicate powdered-sugar snow, sifted by the winds, floats like memories, full of haze and distance; pulses like trees on a hot afternoon; forms what I know: In a three o'clock music, soft and slow, I am a long-wintering hive of bees; and the gossamer swallows at their ease sparkle in the waves on my radio. If I were to tell you again today that tomorrow I would be leaving here, what light would it gift you, though miles apart. I had left you in a similar way before, and later come back: pleased, tired, queer, as curiously as: I do in my art. -

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.