So it is snowing outside. Here is what it looks like.
Here is a little haiku I though of this morning when I saw the snow:
the snow falls down, white and crisp
a simple canvas
perfect for art or dog piss.
So I may not like the TV show This Old House, but I do really like old houses. Which is why I loved this poem my mom sent me earlier today:
Look at my Valentine’s Day book… and yes it’s a gif.
This headache is killing me, which reminds me of a poem I wrote over the summer about another headache that was at that time killing me.
my head is a building
it is boxy and large
and must be destroyed
every method has been attempted
it begins slowly
an ice pick tries to shatter through
unsuccessful. it jabs harder
the building is ready to give up,
but the frame is too strong, too sturdy.
no success leads to harsher methods
the battering ram appears
it batters, but can not break
It pushes harder and harder
the building wants to dissolve,
but the frame is too stubborn.
the building still stands
but the insides have been gutted;
no thoughts enter or exit.
the building is just a skeleton:
the wrecking ball has been called in
it works from the inside out.
it sits in the empty building
and thrusts itself into the walls.
the frame shakes, yet never falls
the building is ready to crumble
but instead it stays motionless.
taking the punches.
We stood at the edge of
The water and sent the
Smooth stones we had gathered earlier sailing
Across the surface.
Ripples glided out
And suddenly I was hypnotized.
It was as though I had fallen through that center ripple
Straight down to the bottom of the lake.
In the quiet darkness
I could only feel the fish moving past me.
In that moment I was Saul,
Struck blind by God.
And the feeling of those scaly bodies sliding against my skin
Was all I needed to know that
All would be forgiven
As long as I just asked for it.
An invisible hand lifted me through the water
And as I broke the surface
My wings unfurled and I
Soared into the sun.
Not a modern Icarus,
Doomed for eternity,
But a liberated soul.
By the time I regained my sight
And opened my eyes
You had become concerned,
Asking me if I was alright.
I started to explain
But stopped because to rob you
Of your own
Would have been the undoing of my new found freedom.
A photo by hikepa on flickr accompanied with a poem I wrote.