L’ALLEGRO

ON

THE AGE OF ICE

 

THE PROCESS OF HARDENING

AND TRANSPARENCY

OR GOING OPAQUE

THE AWFUL CHILLS

JUST BEFORE THAT

SLICK SLIDE INTO

OBLIVION

 

TO UNDERSTAND

IS TO KNOW

HOPE

AS A FROZEN DREAM

COME FROM THE

STARS

 

IN SUSPENDED ANIMATION

OUR SILENCE FACES

OUR DREAD  

 

CRYOGENICS

A TERM SO ASTUTE

AS TO BE DESCRIPTIVE

RATHER THAN PRESCRIPTIVE

FOR ROCKY TEARS

DROP AND CRACK

THE HEART THAT

SHED THEM

THAT THE EARTH

MAY REVOLVE

AND TIME REMAIN

CONSTANT

 

 

NOTHING IS NEW

HERE IS ONLY ICE

 

WE RECREATE THE PAST

AFTER LOOKING

DEEP INTO THE FUTURE

WHERE OUR GARDENS

AND CREATIONS

AWAIT A NEW GOD

WORTHY OF OUR FORESIGHT

RESPECTFUL OF OUR

ANTECEDENT SELVES

THE FORMER DEAD WEIGHT

LACKS THE INSIGHT

OF ICE

 

WE ARE LEFT WITH

COMPARISONS TO WATER AND AIR

 

ASSOCIATIONS THAT REFUSE

TO SETTLE MEEKLY

INTO THE MISTS OF TIME

LIKE STEAMING VAPORS

FROM A KETTLE

THEY VANISH

 

THE LIGHT WEIGHT

BRINGS THE THINNEST EVAPORATION

GONE

 

ALONE

I STUDIED

DENSITY DOWN

TO THE SMALLEST

PARTICLE OF MATTER

 

AND THEN SOME SNOWFLAKE

DARED TO SLICE THE SWEET AIR

TO PIERCE MY HEART WITH YOUR MEMORY

 

OUR THOUGHTS NOW CRUMBLE IN SNOW DUST

THAT WE MAY BE HEALED

FROM DEATH

BUT IN THE ICICLED GRAVE

AS WE WAIT

THERE IS NO GUARANTEE OF  

NEW LIFE

COME THE DAY

WE MAY CONCLUDE AT LAST

THAT THIRTY-TWO DEGREES FARENHEIT

IS SALVATION

EVEN ZERO CENTRIGRADE

OFFERS TANGIBLE HOPE

HOPE WHICH EQUALS ZERO

nothing

AND IN THESE

DEGREES OF DECLENSION

WE SALIVATE

IN SPITE OF THE COLD

IN THIS THEATRE OF ICICLES

WITHIN OURSELVES

WE WONDER

 

IF WE WILL 

 

REMEMBER

THE

 

FREEZE

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