2025, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, winter

Days 2025: Winter (30- 36)

Day 30

there are stories of stick men
walking out of the river
groaning for a proper smoke
and a nice cup of tea

Day 31

these days are a razed museum
waiting for the water to wash them away

Day 32

this floating world
such a thin skin

what lasts rips through
and bleeds

Day 33

aye, do not dream of spring

do
not


Day 34

the calendar
lost in a current of hours

Day 35

delay delay
the body delays

I am learning
to listen

Day 36

this season
is all rain and phlegm

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2025, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, winter

Days 2025: Winter (20-22)

Day 20

meditate on ice and cold, carrying enough warmth
in your pockets to carry you into the next work day.

For now, wait on the sun, the days to grow long and long
trying not to think how hot July will be

Day 21

there’s intercession waiting: the ice
just one more layer of thin skin

a temporary smothering here, supposing
the creation of air out of icicles clinging to the hull

pondering life as a form of evaporation
listening for the first hint of the skin cracking

Day 22

soak in a bit of the sun, debate with yourself
over which of the household chores

need avoiding. stick to decaf
aspire to be more like the dogs napping

while refusing to give over the whole of the day
to sleep and to the night that stands waiting

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2025, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, winter

Days 2025: Winter (17-19)

Day 17

old river, old mirror tell me please
is this the old man you thought I’d be?

the dark horizon across illuminated
by a single strand of light

by your depiction the bridge, in pieces
a dream of metal lilly pads, headlights hop

have you drawn me out yet
the years running backwards in cross currents

in how many years will I return again
as a new born river monster

all memory
and gills

Day 18

rapt and content, even when circumstance
sends us out; yesterday’s rain

cleared some of ice and snow, and what’s left
is marked and polluted

that bite in the afternoon wind, a warning
but we find ourselves

cozy
nonplussed

Day 19

such a blowy snow
the globe

must be
busted

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