1/30/13

a black sky downpour
spun me to the entryway
of a jewelry shop;
in the wet vestibule I
met the gaze of a soaked dove

1/29/13

deep clouds beheaded
the dark skyscrapers, left them
standing like mute stumps.
behold the foggy ax blade:
atmospheric slight-of-hand

1/28/13

warm rains cracked and dashed
the salty ice, erasing
winter from the earth
I stood in a numb fuzz, a
buzzing state of novocaine

1/27/13

we witchy women
gather over plates of eggs
and exchange hexes
passing vials of blessed oils:
love potions, evil eye wards

1/26/13

wings fill the thorn bush
spry sparrows chatter and hop
fluff their dingy coats
I throw them bread crumbs, watch them
sink up to their knees in snow

1/25/13

a moonlit snowfall
dusky sky smouldering above
these soft velvet hills
the air hangs still and muted
between the far shore and here

1/24/13

plates of ice float in
the steaming Allegheny
like mute coal barges;
their water weeps to mingle
with the wide knotted rivers

1/23/13

to still my shiver
I imagine my body
a column of ice:
a dark hollow heart frozen
in a web of cracked crystal

1/22/13

a day to keep warm
from the biting chill outside
stir rice and beans and
sit by the radiator
with a thick book in your lap

1/21/13

we fill her pockets
as we cut through the side streets
eyes pinned to the curb
buttons, fake flowers, torn books
souvenirs of the city

1/20/13

this endless city
tunneled under and over
and crawling with souls
I walk a dark street, head down
in the howling bitter wind

1/19/13

the bear swings his jaws
teeth ferrying a thick pane
of dripping pond ice;
fifteen harvest mice huddle
in the eye of a needle

1/18/13

half-remembered streets
dioramas, gemstones, bones
and polish delis
we celebrate my birthday
with a bodega cupcake

1/17/13

candy-colored dice
tea and reams of graph paper
herald adventure;
I slice skeletons in half
and stroke the cat in my lap

1/16/13

our names now adorn
an inch of mumbo jumbo
and a hilltop home.
we celebrate with hoagies
and a street corner liplock

1/15/13

we cut a swift path
through the tail end of traffic
fleeing the city;
ensconced in tacky stucco
birthday girls eat their pasta

1/14/13

the day struck me mute
to wake from strange dreams to face
chaos null and void
I slouch in a bus seat, press
my forehead against the glass

1/13/13

our feet eat the miles
avenues and alleyways
bridges and steep hills
we rest our legs and drink pops
before the long walk back home

1/12/13

In the too-warm air
I cross the bridge with bags full
of sprouts and bean curd;
later on we fold wontons
over cups of rooibos tea

1/11/13

this strange humid air
raises fog from cement lots
and dew in our hair
thick clouds escape the smoke stacks
and drift sideways, pinned to earth

1/10/13

speech, miasma, fire
destruction spreads like disease
as my clenched brow boils
I awake in a dark room
pinned by the weight of blankets

1/9/13

black cloud horizon
reveals a shock of pink light;
buildings rise up and
recede behind each other
like philip glass violins

1/8/13

my feet dig trenches
on this patch of cold concrete
i visit daily
I've stood a hundred days here
without speaking, my mind blank

1/7/13

dark weeks of evenings
leaving in darkness like bats
today the air changes
I stand between skyscrapers
and crane my neck. daylight. there.

1/6/13

careful concoction
star anise, cinnamon stick
onion, clove, garlic
we slurp rice noodles and sip
the broth, the burn of chili

1/5/13

we lunch like old folks
soup and sandwiches shared
at the stroke of noon
our house fills with loving scents
frying onions and warm skin

1/4/13

eight hundred million
the number of crows swooping 
from the north hilltops
like black snowfall, they cover
the bald face of the mountain

1/3/13

pushed against a wall
the handcuffed man cranes his neck
eyes searching the crowd
we walk by like we can't see
bound by the code of shared streets

1/2/13

we return to work
wrapped in scarves and sniffling
coughing in crosswalks
smiling across the bus aisle
at neighbors and strangers both

1/1/13

cold morning after
darkened storefronts, empty stoops
the streets are empty
party hats and wet streamers
stomped into the slushy snow