Saturday, October 24, 2009

A Year in Chicago

When the silver pin-holes pock the

big black blanket just so I fall

instinctual--in this mushroom orb

of synthetic light airplanes are

inconsistent but accepted as

 

infinite--O’Hare the God of

Gas and Firmament.

 

A groundhog surfaces

once, if only to gnaw dandelion

leaves, jostles the stalk & the fluff reminds us

of snow--that was Summer.

 

Trees impetuously undress themselves

for Winter--shimmy-shake-strip

in the wind--but Winter doesn’t notice.

They are left to shiver & shiver.

 

Welcome furnaces & hot showers with

an amphibious heart & love them

for what they are (necessary). Quick, 

track my boot crumbs in the snow--keep

close or we’ll lose ourselves in the whiteness. 

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