Monday, January 10, 2011

Endless Halls

Under a cold pink glow - 
Winter dusk. 
The dark and deserted perimeter:
Sharp wind up the infamous stairs,
Still fountain full of snow. 
Indoors - 
Something like cinnamon-raisin.
My dreams are fitful. 
Those endless halls
Until I'm weak with what I don't recognize
As hunger. 
But they just pull - 
Other lifetimes, broken columns - 
And all the weight of time
Early afternoon
To dark evening.
Exhaust me.
Why is it 
Colder underground
Than outside?
I can't read the labels.
A year in hours
Won't be captured here.

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