First Snow

Frantically we go,
moths to the flaming
that isn’t.

The mechanical, untiring arm of things.

The way it goes. Mischievous, nostalgic dopplegangers.

Progress for the sake of progress.

Running against the
wind as the cement hardens
around us.

Guitar solos, last-second comebacks.

The force of the motion. Untrustworthy mixtures.

Making sense of meeting all the wrong ends.

Speaking in a
language of reverberations,
going nowhere.

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One thought on “First Snow”

  1. I feel this.

    I feel this soo powerfully and honestly. I can feel it swirl up around me and blizzard against my skin. I can feel it come to life.

    I really feel and understand this poem. I can go on a walk with it.

    We are going to the same place.

    It is a powerful, tremendously executed poem.

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