(Untitled)

[chef_brockett]

ice flown

grown:

the ice seethes

in drainish amber pools

under lights

on blacktop flumes ran still

prepositionlessness: that ice

called arcane: floe

carved and culled eons wrought to flotsam

it creaks

lulled and ripped beds from naught

and sheets strewn

to nether sends

she known

and january

girds

Billy Comparetto

© 2010

Comments

[anonymous]

I like this one, though it is quite grim.