Deep snow collects on my windowsill.
Clouds fill up the early winter sky.
Naked trees evoke bare feelings.
I remember the faces of friends,
both the survivors & the long lost,
along with other winter pictures
revealed by the gusty wind of time
that blows some places nude as regret
while others drift to higher dunes,
snow swirling above fragile peaks,
miles above the gravity of now.
It’s a short slippery step from there
into an avalanche of memory,
where drifting & blowing are expected.
“Abandon all hope”
points of light pop
on the page
light of stars
light of hearts
“if you enter here”
events scatter like sparks
Eric Greinke is the author of twenty-two books, most recently Invisible Wings (Presa Press, 2019). His poems and essays have been published in hundreds of American and international literary magazines since the early seventies, including Abraxas, California Quarterly, Cape Rock, Delaware Poetry Review, Forge, Freshwater Literary Review, Gargoyle, Ginyu (Japan), The Hurricane Review, Ibbetson Street, The Journal (UK), Lake Effect, The Loch Raven Review, Main Street Rag, New York Quarterly, The Paterson Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Pennsylvania English, Pinyon, Poem, Prairie Schooner, Prosopisia (India), Rosebud, South Carolina Review, Trajectory, Turtle Island Quarterly and The University of Tampa Review. He is a two time Allen Ginsberg Award winner and has been nominated twice (1972, 2014) for the Pulitzer Prize, numerous times for the Pushcart Prize and once for Best of the Net. He is currently a Contributing Writer for Schuylkill Valley Journal. He lives in an old stone cottage by a lake in Western Michigan. www.ericgreinke.com
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