“Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning, two bodies ruined by a single sweetness”   Pablo Neruda 


Between wake and sleep
I feel the brush of your hand
cold as winters breath.
I thought I glimpsed you in
lightning strokes through my window
heard your steps come and go
down halls still echoing departure
as night slips away
 the mist of yesterday recedes
over the lake of time
So that you may see what is left
of me I’ve etched your eyes to mine
Dismembered by scythes of devastation
we scatter like autumn leaves
You go where gravity pulls you
disappear through shimmering veils
or wind down my cheek like teardrops
settling in the hollow of my throat
conscious fingers of stars gliding
over hoarfrost fields or weeping willows
sweeping an ice capped pond.


art by Brad Kunkle


The world is wintry blue.
Vast and still yet there
is no comfort in the quiet.
The wolf inside me shakes
the snow from her fur,
travels through dark timbered
forests and blue gray mountains.
There are others moonstruck,
dusted with the same shine.
Together we trace a midnight
hover of crows unaware.

She’s Not A Lady

Winter does not empathize
with withered branches or
displaced birds fleeing waves
of frozen breath.
Her howling wind is a laugh out loud and
she hasn’t the grace to cover her mouth.
A tease of holly and evergreen flicker
at the curve of billowed thighs
glistening folds of hallowed mounds
drift in other worldly sighs ensnared
in her exquisite binds.


art by Karol Bak