Friday, 23 January 2009

Ice Age by John Kuligowski

Inside my cupped hands the wind
was a wintering eye shaped by thought
to permanence and by whispers to break.
Inside the unctuous sky, each word
crystallized by your breath reminded the air
it was slowed and sharpened, made to pry
open an ambient screen of flesh.
Each molecule was parsecs in distance
from any point of reference, expanded
to epochs in that warp and woof,
and unintelligible as any of the living dead.
All permanence is thought until shattered,
your voice crying “look out!” as an icicle
plummets, viewed before voiced.

John Kuligowski, USA


Crafty Green Poet said...

John Kuligowski currently lives in the midwest. His work has appeared in Blind Man's Rainbow, The, and is forthcoming in Clockwise Cat.

Gordon Mason said...

Wow! I've read this a few times because it has many rhythms. Also I like how 'c' is used so often with its different pronunciations.

Note to Juliet: 'lives in the midwest' for you and me would be Shotts or Motherwell or thereabouts! I take it John is in the US midwest.