January 8. -11
Fog
in and out of the fog these feet below me
:::
dense fog spirits of snowmen?
:::
head in clouds low lying fog
:::
hidden in the fog this sleepy town
:::
sucking out colors this fog is
:::
hard to put a finger on, this fog
:::
absorbing my singing this dense fog
:::
this fog inhabited by crows
:::
stumbling into an old friend, this fog
:::
crescent moon scratching the fog
:::
resting on my glasses this fog
:::
diving into the fog this country road
:::
not minding my appearance the fog rolls on
:::
creeping back whence it came this fog from thaw
:::
from inside the fog these twin lights of cars
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January 9. -11
Dusk
dusk the day that didn't take off
:::
dusk geese crossing the churchyard
:::
the soft silhouettes of houses, dusk
:::
dusk – when did I stop playing the guitar
:::
dusk and colors leaving, a minor death
:::
dusk houses grow eyes of light
:::
dusk the snowdrifts cracking under thaw
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Cormorants
line of cormorants
for a while
the horizon wobbles
:::
cormorants in a straight line
I translate my name
into Italian
:::
ghost trees
the habitat
of a cormorants colony
:::
five cormorants
fisherman loading a shotgun
:::
diving cormorants
precisely half a moon
over the gas station
:::
straight line of cormorants
a cello sonata
engraved in plastic
:::
the use of rubber
a flock of cormorants
crossing in silence
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