through a mirror of snow
rattles my mind like gates
in cold November hills.
Her scarf billows with the wind
and I think of a blacksmith bellows,
the red coals that pierce the whiteness.
Her eyes are vast suns,
and from them clear water flows.
I hear raindrops hissing in coals.
I raise my hammer and strike the steel.
Her eyes appear in the links of my chain.
Network of Wires | With the themes of romance, love, and lament, this book contains selected longer poems that have all seen publication in the small press.
5 USD – Check/cash only – payable to Wolfsong Pubs., 3123 S. Kennedy Dr., Sturtevant, WI 53177 USA. query: firstname.lastname@example.org – Allow 2 weeks. Provide complete street mailing address. Buy 3 get the 4th one free