deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Wisdom of Eskimos
I stopped, covering
my face
in
wooly mittens, smitten with the bold cold, breath
released
into
layers of vaporous mist, evolving
like the vanishing
of the
missed, released into the color of air
&
rapture, enraptured in the scheme of a daydream, drifting
into the sight
of
night, withholding a rose of what the spirit knows: Survival.
my face
in
wooly mittens, smitten with the bold cold, breath
released
into
layers of vaporous mist, evolving
like the vanishing
of the
missed, released into the color of air
&
rapture, enraptured in the scheme of a daydream, drifting
into the sight
of
night, withholding a rose of what the spirit knows: Survival.
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