< quick and silver > (vis-à-vis honesty's picture)

< quick and silver >

only the first light
finds you quick and silver
for me you are gone

all day afternoons in winter
i wait in shadowed light and
move slightly with frost or not
seeing faces like yours
at tables like mine
giving up food for your look
being stupid in many parts
trying to impress the air
where you used to stand

picture my place
picture your fresh thoughts
next to mine
in the time to come
picture nothing
you're not here
you're quick and silver
you're already in spring


almost terse
are you the messenger between three worlds
or are you the back of my mirror
as I tap it for a door?

when the frost snaps your wings
there will still be earth

she and I wait at table
with ready cups

It could be worse
"Do you hear the snow
against the window-panes, Kitty?
How nice and soft it sounds!
Just as if some one was
kissing the window all over outside.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields,
that it kisses them so gently?
And then it covers them up snug,
you know, with a white quilt;
and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings,
till the summer comes again."

-Through the Looking-Glass
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?

The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Solipsist, she breathes each breath into
November's icy kiss...

owner, she of a mercurial soul.

Winter sorceress,
she makes love and
drips diamonds
across the calloused earth...

resplendently archaic and opulent.
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?

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