The Winter Road From the St. Simeon Farm
by Horacio Michaud bananan@losgigtenerife.com
(in an ad for photoshop CS3)

Trampled snow is the only rose.
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend

VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
Astonished that you have returned to go
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're

II. Quest and Conquest
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
At these masses the snow hides from me.
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled
Down the road, at Cypress Gardens, a woman
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.

The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
Silence, are in his hand—birds in a snare;
In a single floral stroke,
Unreadable from behind—they are well down

And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Against this sky no longer of our world.

Labels: spam poetry