HOME | DD

Description
Shocked,
   My bedroom floor holding up a thin layer of Word Snow.
Every word ever read,
   From Hop on Pop to Howl,
      Cut separately from their pages.
(Like every leaf off a tree, every tree in the forest) . The occasional fragment,
   Slightly larger in the white mosaic of black print scattered.
Wordplay on bass amp,
   Titles atop a slowly spinning Miles Davis record,
      Falling off delicately by the cool breeze.
All this is serene as I stand in the middle of the room.
I have a hollow idea tearing me apart,
   So I kneel,
     Lay,
         Submerge myself into the crinkling cold.
I return with pockets stuffed & handfuls,
   & fill in the empty spaces.
I keep the room locked with a key & visit the snow several times a day.