In Winter
snowflake galaxies whirl above the
frozen pond
white sparks stream from my old coal
shovel
standing straight up against the wind
I see light everywhere
photon embers of the big bang
fill the sky to the edge of the sun
from another universe
a dark form
a deer on the ridge
looks into my eyes
we share a breath of air
in that cool moment
we know what it is
to be alive
bowing our heads
we bend forward
into the drift
*
Cold spirits
If spirits roam
In small spaces
Between slow burning suns
And the inexorable slide of gravity
They see our bodies
living breathing steam
Freezing white in solid air
As if our souls hung there
Getting gasoline
Out cold in orange-yellow bays
Great bright stalls, greasy ice
Where we stand
Shocked by the knowledge
Of our predicament
Driven to wander
Risking everything
Going home
*
brain freeze
Words are frozen mind crystals.
Sentences are chunks of ice.
Once they are formed
That part of the brain stops thinking
And just repeats the words
Over and over.
We end up with titanic icebergs
In our heads.
*
*Text and Image by Tullio DeSantis:Image: “Winter” – Tullio – 2012
I like the idea that we have gigantic icebergs in our heads. What a chore to melt them!
They’re pretty much what we call ourselves, I think, Susan – the structure of all previous mental states…
If we find a way to melt the icebergs in our heads, and the water left behinds forms a new frozen mass….do we repeat the same sentences or have they changed?
Good question. I think it’s an endlessly repeating process…
i really enjoyed this poem! so beautiful, and intriguing. I liked the words you chose to describe this event. I can literally picture snowflake galaxies above my head. This may be an inspiration for a new painting!
Once again every season changes one’s emotion and this was also well written for winter. The “brain freeze”, the “cold spirit”, and the “frozen pond” were great ways to express what we feel during the winter. I found the titanic icebergs very interesting because I feel thats how my mind gets when ever I sit and think. I over think a lot of the time and it keeps growing and freezing over likes if it’s becoming a “titanic iceberg.” This also happens while drawing as well, and when my picture is finally done it melts away. When one thinks of winter one feels cold, and dark and its not as welcoming as the warmth but yet can be beautiful as well. I gues the connection between what we feel during winter and what we feel during difficult times like drawing a picture, for me, or writing an essay is very simiplar.