Wednesday, June 17, 2009

head full of snow

'When the wind blows and the rain feels cold 
with a head full of snow
In the window there's a face you know
Don't the night pass slow?

Sound of strangers sending nothing to my mind
Just another mad, mad day on the road
I am just living to be lying by your side
But I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road

Made a rag pile of my shiny clothes
Gonna warm my bones,
I got silence on my radio
Let the air waves flow,
For I am sleeping under strange strange skies
Just another mad, mad day on the road
My dreams is fading down the railway line
I'm just about a moonlight mile down the road'

the rolling stones





the leaves of the trees in your yard screech low like cellos; it is too dark to know where the narrow path leads, creeping as it does to the right and then out of sight, but that's where you go

a head full of snow: have you a head full of snow? is this the origin of your ghostly glow, your emaciated smile ?

your hands are warm anyway

a head full of snow. it's a feeling i've known (we were all clean and young before we were grown but the nights are cold, and through the smoke we only seek the heat

that we need for our own)

your face in the half-light, the shadow of your collarbone

of course i can only close my eyes,
remember a song

stirring up the stations of the radio. my vision adjusts to find you moving slow, your eyes ignited by a lighter's adjustable flame, beautiful mouth, a perfect bow, and

a head full of snow

i shall lay back on this table and watch the stars explode. and i shall not cry because i am too high to remember how.

i have a glass of wine a cigarette and the rolling stones
and i peer through frozen eyes, hear through a wall of snow

(as do we all, i know, because we all have felt the pull. along the narrow path, that's where you go)


to calm a feeling that is stronger than your bones, that threatens to grow darker than your immeasurable black pupils know

a piece of carnelian, cellos, a head full of snow

1 comment:

Variable said...

Allison this is beautiful, I love it! Everything you write is more and more impressive. You're honing your skills so fast, and your words are beautiful. Aren't we lucky to have words? God knows we love them, I came across this Virginia Woolf quote today, "The yellow warmth in my side turned to stone when I saw Jinny kiss Louis. I shall eat grass and die in a ditch in the brown water where dead leaves have rotted." THE WAVES

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