snow is falling on the sidewalk

[ snow is falling on the sidewalk ]

resound like a storm which is
so
purposefully gentle

even the sky is being sent
and sent and sent in a great sensual blank

at your careless touch
a string of pearls
on the grey heights

we have watched the blue lake and grass

other times
we would enjoy walking endlessly

down
the spreading path--away from the

hillside into the fray--
we thrust ourselves

upon
dreads of grass

now the room
is
completely grey
with a white ceiling

I am near, like clouds
of random nights

to the still-frigid light

the ground
surrenders     soon cloaked in snow
lust that's deep as a neck
* * * * *

a depiction of the sacred and the human

[ a depiction of the sacred and the human ]

is to know how Mary Magdealene is, to expose absences
of the mind ending a sentence without appropriate sound
chiaroscuro in a slowly spinning room, to approach
the present now depicted, to taste the overripe
pomegranate on autumn's but not breath
the ghost of your father: to hail Mary
among quartzite and kelp and; to speak
in small rhymes while Mary Magdealene speaks
in a jumble of carnations and doves, to approach
the Archangel Raphael where he waits       for
your kiss, Christ without a beard, to know
how Mary Magdealene calls for the somber spirit of richness,
to fall back into the back wall where the span of time is released
from three tulips, to be a pomegranate, a crown of thorns, figs
in his unusual way, to produce a gentler image, a clergyman
and the pathos of his foot, to find imperfections, today
means to slay another human being, to know how
Mary Magdealene is not
Monday morning, to become a drop of rain, to retreat
into the church with this stain of glass, each protective spirit
moves through the guardhouse waiting for Mary Magdealene
to become a sparrow, to undermine by sky, to know how
Mary Magdealene splinters down the whole length
of the frame making it (im)possible
for the sparrow to take
flight.
* * * * *