Dark night, dark day
inside and out:
I have no shout
nor say.Faint, echoed rage,
old hate
to ruminate
upon a page,
an after-ache
of agony,they lie in wait
to ambush late
when all is stilled;and early churn
when no bird yearns
from a sweet bill.The iron band
in belly burns
cold yet -though I met
my own terms
to the very ampersand -one good day
be it as it may
cannot naysaythis blank, this grey,
from shadow play
on stage midwintering
in bad light failing.
.....
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...