when cold
like a column of mercury
invades my interior
I enclose myself
in wool and close
windows but the cold
is interior
blankets contain it
windows can’t block it
fantasies don’t melt it
food just stokes it
sleep can’t get thru it
and music makes the cold
rise from vertebrae to
the far tendrils of the mind



when cold
like a column of mercury
invades, I enclose myself





From Honey, 1977 edition
Vehicule/Cross Country Press