Andrew Lundwall
A Snow Blows the Dark
a snow blows the dark
in taking forehead and maneuvers
that time and space become trivial
and the senses are asleep beyond
the hip stroll the youth below
the half-hidden house foot to foot
to foot in the dark in the edge packed
deeply the squalor sets outside out
the head and cold the mouthtalking
labyrinths to stand in perspectives time
roll by rolling leaves of the brain booth
late the swirling the swirling
leaves of mental communication
convertible gloomy afternoon
stumbling leaves like clockwork