Cabin Fever Months snowed inA man rinsing and repeatingA sweet song played overTea heated on the stove forUnkempt hair and foggy glassesAnd bastard brain bashed inHe left home fast; saysHe never recoveredWhen looking at me through a cameraI was not so sureAbout my presenceAnd what I should be trying forIt comes back to me when
TagSnow
The Beautiful Things in the Snow
My first winter in the snow at Bard College. Two red berries had been smashed beneath each footstep that led up to the window. The juice had bled into the ridges of the prints and small spots dotted the length of each step where the berries had been carried with the forward momentum. Everything else