It's been quite awhile since I've written an honest-to-god poem. Just haven't felt the need or the urgency to write that way, not for almost a year, I think. Anyway, yesterday I was wandering the winter woods for work and stumbled onto a poem. I'm pretty happy with it, not with the main line of my work lately, for sure.
----
In passing
shameful there are hundreds of them
sliver shallow
four, five toed paws and three spoked claws
a slow stampede or late anarchy on parade
that breezes over snow
as if aloft
here I am
sinking, trudging
just thundering craters
here in the
thickest snow.
