A Brittle Heaven

Monday, January 10, 2011

ices over. Leafless. Listless. Heaven only an idea scraping out its breath. Such cloudy
disappearances. Pentimento, palimpsest. The fade of you still lingers. Blue air splinters white.
Was ever-after a wish, once upon a lie? Here again I miss, I wake. The Sky Ungained by footfall.
Morning cracks, reseals itself in ice. Lacework scars the windows, scribbled maps derange the




Titles and italics from Emily Dickinson

Saturday, January 1, 2011