The Dome of Autumn’s Remnant Shell


Extended skeleton

Bent arms or spider web veins on a pale face

Fingers make delicate contact

Lifting quivering flesh on the breath of past embrace

Pinpricked cold charged with recollection

Invisible but to inward reflection known

Against monochromatic eyes

The cry of howling winds and blowing snow


Distance without direction

A haze obscures the source of mournful bells

Ringing, haunting singing of the tipping point

Beyond consolation that all is well

Thoughts are thickened and slowed

Like the yielding ice on river’s distant rim

A darkness creeps around its corners

And dissolved peripheral shadows tumble in


Formations fly in patterns unobserved

An inner riptide pulls from low and deep

Orchestrating movement beyond figure

Floating high on wings of faith to flee

This ever-changing dome of cracks and fissures

Broken scars on solid earth where stand

The decomposing skeletons of memory

Awaiting final fortune to disband

(December, 2014)

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