Night of snow of north wind sixty miles an hour
Deer tracks rabbit
a sparrow walked where the orange cat walked
The snow reads as if they were a team
a strange gang
I kneel
touch the whip marks of weeds in snow
touch the tiny dunes of snow on the hill
I want to memorize this text
as it is now is not how it is
I am adding language as I walk my dog
is a verb
Most of what I do think feel will vanish
even if there are tracks of you
in my brain and the memory
of the shadow of my coffee cup on the poem
[my father moved through dooms of love]
I read just before putting on
two hats mittens leather boots will vanish
unless even if I speak
I am walking across a mind everything is talking
telling me listen I am trying to be ears
just ears or fingertips in a braille world
my eyes it's hard to keep them open so much light
this is how the first word the written word
wounded