holiday storm

Blue circle of snow and light
it is during the solstice, that we enumerate
what we are, who we were and want to be become
I address the old and wise figure in the mirror
and ask-- how do I get there
outside is a hazardous storm, an avalanche has closed
the highway, keeping holiday travelers
homebound, or sleeping in thier cars
awaiting the clearing of the snowslide
there ar e white out conditions as well
theis season of lists where i count
each of my blessings, ponder my frienships
as well as short comings--raging
wildly about the value of freedom
while denying an equal respect towards silence
requiting the noble,
reflecting back the heroic self
of the beloved towards all
the expanse of humanity
as well as the animals
and trees beneath frosted branches
swooning beneath the seasons weight
this is no small task
i think as I sip peppermint tea
as the wind blows down the hillside
sucking the heat from out of the yurt

transmigration by moonlight

Moon three-quarters full
and the world can hold
no more darkness
no room for ideosyncracies
such as wearing no shoes
a twenty below zero
or colder, or there
will be serious regret

The first of midwinter
the sun at her nadir
zenith, apex and apogee
the woul wnaders through
the permanent veil of darness
the body dances like a ghost

cool nocturnal season of mania
and drama-- expressions of man's
crooked shadow, who craves
only loneliness and tears
is comforted by the black tea
of isolation and misery

We roll naked beneath
the solstice tree
decorated by stars
and crisp green midnight
we drink a seasonal brew
and decorate the yurt
with blue lights
and candles we sing
chuck berry radio songs
decorate the walls with laughter

with oil and glow
the pink and the green
orange and purple starlight
velvet lineed happiness
transcending death
the body dance with glitter
her shoulder etched
with a constellation of stars--
Ursa major, the bear and her magic
The scene of two lovers
scrimshawed upon the ivory moon
the sensual curve tattoed
on the face of an ancient lover

The eyes shatter
and the heart eventually mends
the body pulsates
and begins to swoon
midwinter of the soul
and the planet spins free
of her axis, all is suspended
like locusts in honey
a crystaline structure
the world stands still
snow and ice
the spirit burns
with a clear flame
the mind takes a holiday

solstice blues

sometimes cruely, I ask too much
of the world, as she sleeps
in hibernia of the dream
suspende above the body
tied to the vassal
by a silvre thread of light
a truth that rearranges
the universe-- to resemble
the purple black sky
fractured by 3/4 of moonlight
beehind the mountain
the sky ripples greytides
of the new day
the first day of a winter
that seems it has been here forever

black infinity of starlight and the waxing moon

the polar tides churn beneath the ice
it is the winter solstice
and we must look inward
outside is cool desolation
the ponderous margin
the frigid and frozen,
the living and the dead
ice fog burns off like
the waking dream
coming down from
the mountains peak
the pinacle, spire or summit
glazed with a wind swept cornice
how is it that the air has teeth
the moon will converse wiseley
with the wandering man across blue snow
he rests beside the patch of overflow
trying to keep his boots dry
and the imagination offers
only dreams of the hunt,
conquest and harvest
this is not a heavy winter slumber
what does not exist, peace
nor a lucid dream
on the landscape
is left to the imagination
what is to become of man
lies dormant
like treasure beneath snow
gold in the heart
and a diamond mind

ghosts of extinction

walking the frozen sphere
across the icey plenum
this plain of crystaline geometry

where night a nocturnal lantern
glows in jaded darknss
silver shades
of moonlight on snow

where arctic winds blow
the smells of man and machinery
out across the rippling shelf
the blue sheet of cool ocean
bends beneath the weight
of a chemical laced sky

the ice melts beneath the red aurora
the poles melt beneath a firey sun

where stalks the giant polar bear
there grows thin ice

all predators and the primordial
fleeing the ghosts of extinction

i fear for the polar bear
I fear for man
I fear for the earth

renegade sadness

premonitions and daylight
the midwinter improvisation
forging diamonds
with the jack-asses ear
behold the noble prince
behold the blind nostalgia
there is venom in his memories
that flow like poison
in his veins like antifreeze
love in a time of warfare
peace among the carnage
bliss among the minions
red white flowers line the coffin
thsoe who live beautifully
those who can be transformed
those who ingeniously are possessed
by genius, in the works
it remains dumbfounding
the highwire and loves eternal law
unbeknownst to others,
the wilderness vagrant
was sitting on a pile of gold
in his ramshackled cabin
on the frozen slough
this with his floss stitched jeans
an artist in a world
that only gives esteem to thieves

nightskiing

green wilderness lucid and sunny
land under the polar spell
frozen winter twenty below zero
and the heart will mend beneath
the sheet of ice, a mirror of sky
which pulls me forward
crisscrossing across the snow
lit by slivered moonlight
the valley is cool,
metalic blue fading
into rust and orange,
tracing the shimmering phantom
singed tangerine the sky explodes
with fire for a second,
again a crystaline sliver of moon
and yesturday I was at my weakest
my powers almost failed
reclusive, i could not navigate
someone clipped my whiskers
my body was afflicted with pain

i cross the trails skating and striding
across the wooded slopes, traversing the
hillside, crossing through
the blurr of blue and ice
the body whispers across the earth
leaving an endless arrow
a furrow pointing out stellar north
the v-like dance thrust forwards
easily gliding into the wind
a frosty mask clings to my beard
snorts of steam burst from my lungs
rhythmical and stout locomotive
carving a blind turn,
tracing the slope in darkness
twilight clings to the slick surface
lurching my surging body forward
image of an arctic hunter
or nordic god on ski's

december sunrise

luminous red and cerebral
flesh of salmon less orange
than glowing

sunrise mellows across
snow clad spires,
wicked peaks
of the alaska range
deboroah, hesse, and hayes
the view from fairbanks,
the sky more purple
towards the northern
fin of Denali

off in the periphery
above it all

cutting the sky
like a blue diamond

deep freeze

northwest of emptiness
twenty five below zero

black capped chickadee
clings to an icicle

this morninigs aurora
silver, swirling, sterling

in the crisp sky, the
boreal constellation

patterned on lone wolf
howling,loneliness echoeing

across the black trees
crushing down the frozen river

I must sharpen my senses,
sharpen the axe, clean the
gun and oil the traps

I see the face of my
beloved, in the
swirling curl
of window ice

Tonight I must write

Tonight I must write a letter
long over due

to an eighty year old poet
who has a staple
tacking open a valve
of his heart

Why must I rely
so heavily
upon words