Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Thin Ice

A History Of The North Country

I linger on the blowing passage that
drifts whorls of snow across crisp swept pages,
great heaving shoulders poised on the thin cusp
at the white margins, finger floating down the

flawless powdered face lacing through stands of
towering words their branches thrusting high
into the blue vault frantically combing  
a rising ocean of carbon for a path

back over mirror ice and hushed cushioned
floors of boreal forest, locked away
in sedimentary pages, ancient  
runes set to thaw and seep before my eyes.

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