Like an old tale | Like ice, forming over the hole | in the ice | where the victim fell in | Those were old winters | deep and long | Mankind | was ruled by the weather, then | Accepted | Cowered | Survived, only | Waiting | was real | If there was such | a winter of the heart | division would mean | division | and hope would be | the recovery of the body in spring

Really dead things | frozen | beyond the touch of voices, or even | of silence || Keep calling to keep | hearing an echo | Fall quiet, and the echo?…


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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