And then the big winds came
around midnight, the radio station
was tracking their arrival to the city.
This just in to the West Side first.

Went walking beforehand, foot after foot,
to the knee, deep snow. Deeper-than-dog snow.
Dog bounding through snow and
disappearing between bounds.
I did a fall I call the inverse snow angel.
(Video available upon request).
falling thick.

And then the big winds did come,
rearranging the powder as they saw fit.
I saw it until the windows iced over.
Then came the flashes of lighting
unheard of in a blizzard, light
bouncing between snow and low clouds,
the whole world crackling purple white.

Woke up on the couch at dawn, the sun
had come to breakfast. I was surprised
and went back to sleep. The sun
stayed anyway. Brilliant day.
Sky without a trace of adjectives.
I walked to Macy’s. The coffee provisions
had run out in our orange bunker.

Drank and thought about how
the only way to live a desert is stories.
Silko, Ortiz, first Australians, Bowden, Jews
they all know this. Voices that shape the sand
like big winds the snow. Stories
that shape the ear. But
how to explain that silence?
The space after this stanza,
the long horizon where words are born.

The stillness of staying home.
Stillness rare like snow lightning.
Stillness of cars stuck in the street.

And then the snow plow came
and it didn’t matter much, chaos
is still chaos no matter who
tries to own it. The City
plows the rich
neighborhoods
first. Of course.

Resurrected my sister’s car at sunset
with a borrowed snow shovel.
More is forecast, and what’s here
will freeze good tonight. Good
to think we can leave when we want.
But it’s that silence we’re after.

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•
L

for alison
diciembre 2009

merry haunzakwanzamas & solstice,
everybody

•
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Avie is surprised to see the sun come over without calling first.

Buen día.

Orange Bunker.

Snow turns the neighborhood back into forest.

Flag is very white, but tries to be colorful as well.

The space between things.

Always good to have arms for work.
I spent an hour moving pounds of snow
that won’t exist if the sun sticks around.
Like all work.

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