The Old Mill Disco on a Greek Island #2
The hip old mill of the disco stops grinding the wind into power. A soft nothingness descends like a million moths filtering through cobwebs and cobwebs of moonlight, leaving the anesthetized eyesight bobbing like duo lanterns on local boats. In the gray allegiance of pre-dawn, an inventory of tackle, nets, and floats is visible now the night is gone. Then the pill of the sun is thrown and the titration point is behind us, irretrievably clarifying things. Darkness is exchanged for daylight in a parenthesis of clouds white as snow, as the trackless frost on a winter’s pane that once seemed...
Read MoreWinter Love Scene
(for Dr. Zhivago) THE SNOW KEPT THE WORLD AWAY and she held me as gently as sand holds sand. We moved like shadows moving toward eclipse. This woman opened her long-silenced lips, and Noise that had built a fortress in my land was hushed away, and I was still as lapses of consciousness at the threshold of a nap. THE SNOW PROTECTED US Holding her was a tingling in my nerves. She knocked gently at my courthouse heart and penetrated even to the government. Holding her was the wilderness of wharves in winter when the sailors all report: I skipped my ship, now I’m the...
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