A Letter on the Eve of the Crucifixion
April 1, 2012
To Stand Amid Things Taller Than
April 5, 2012

Winter’s coming-coming, hide!
and no six-figured red will send her sulking
to the spring–you sling
your happiness away, you hear?

It’s the Rabid Creatures scrounging-sounding!
on the island of Moreau, and dying
or in the jailhouse of Joseph
all alone; I’d like to scream in fear

But stirring from their bedrest-heat
from sickly whispers to a soundly beat
those succubus have cried across
my ear and trees.

Christmas, Christmas turn the wail away!
i’m sad for centuries alone inside
that all my history i think and cried–
but that’s all over now; it rains a belt of snow.

Fire-siding with a bevy drink and five
good books to toil away the howling she outside.
and if it’s monday, i’m not sure i knew
what week it is, or Christmas was last night.

Though cannot help but feel-in-dreaming, I
have things to say that need the sun
but it has won, i think, that grim-faced
clouded wind; tomorrow I will bake a pie.

And sigh, for winter’s coming-coming
while I am chained in hiding, culling
memories of whiskey-drizzled spring.

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