MIDWINTER
A blue light 
streams out of my clothes. 
Midwinter. 
Ringing tambourines of ice. 
I close my eyes. 
There is a silent world, 
there is a crack
where the dead 
are smuggled over the border. 
"...not as vocabulary, not as syntax, not even as structure, but as a principle and a presence." -John Berger 
 
Welcome Friends, Seekers, Artists, Seers, Howlers
 
 
