ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 7
WINTER PRAISES
of abandoned nests
of those whose blood distilled till they disappeared
of cold as a region emptied for the play of survival
of smoke as a shape of various energies vanishing
winter praises snore resting their heads in snowdrifts
everywhere a freedom of blankness
allows feet to mark the earth as if for the first time
(clarity of image parted from object
vacant white as a field for impression a substitute memory
hesitations and deviations written out as the exact way to follow)
winter praises of mornings tracking lonely after the brilliant
night
of noontimes' failure and mournful passing
of stars' intensity the greater shining of the darker months
of the frost that seals the mouth of every rooted thing
of cold that represents withdrawal and inspires closeness
of the sharp edges of gravel now smoothed with ice
(I have fallen in the snow and don't mind
staying a moment on my side
looking I think like a victim
stretched on its brilliant altar)