If heart
or mind
not body
is what 
I touch 
then how 
to see
what’s within 
by looking 
without eyes 
for eyes 
find beauty 
not soul 

Dust maybe water 
is this plume
rising up from 
nowhere a giants 
hand reaching skyward 
blocking out everything 
and back down 
now covering else
my landscape gone 
Pompeii maybe Japan
I am city
erected too close 
to beautiful things 
and now under 
the very same 

It’s this 
this I
don’t know 
maybe piano 
maybe ice 
in glass
it’s something 
I hear
a tink
oh now 
I know 
it’s frozen 
tears falling 
from my 
cold heart 
and landing
on the 
mirror of 
broken promises 

Sitting here 
and watching 
as snow 
ever so
slowly falls 
I’m reminded 
of how 
truly small 
heartache is 
when snowflakes 
and snowfalls 
bring halt
but I
and this 
gnawing loss
stops nothing 
clocks tick
people go 
about business 
all unaware
that the 
world’s ending 

I was thinking 
of you today 
but not you 
today but yesterday
the you who
you have become 
is as surprising
as the squirrel 
I watch daily 
touching new snow 
familiar but uncertain 
as to how 
or even if 
it should try
to find the 
buried treasure beneath