Northbound train
materializing out of the fog
erased back into it
this is the time of watchmen
the time of switchmen
the time of drawbridge operators
patrolling the edges of the no-scape
the noise of interstate traffic echoing off downtown buildings
pushed up against the river, against erasure
against
living at the edge of visibility
hoping where a foot is planted is solid
and not one more dream of a new lunar year
4.
Solstice in Kentucky
old men mutter: seasons
roll over dig in
5.
Preparation
goes only so far: the rest
this mud body resists
6. (broken haiku)
Today the sun shines
rebirth sings on frigid winds.
What dies? Mud bodies.
1. (broken haiku)
Sunday before Christmas
high water threats
gone: the cold stays
2.
Bits of snow surfing
on the bitter winter winds
on a quiet wharf
3.
These bones echo
the river’s cutting currents
this body: a mud bank
