Snow Book
I found a book made of snow
its pages fallen open like batter pouring into a pan
I didn’t try to pick it up
I can read it off of its podium...
I can read it off of its podium...
Four Seasons
I should have salted myself ages ago
Seasoned my life to cook more flavorfully
My thoughts are all of the animal fantasy
variety
Sun and sex
Yellow straw and sea salt
I think about East of Eden and Rosemary's Baby
style pregnancies
Am I capable of becoming terrifying?
An icy menace?
Women's resentments, insults and injuries
absorbed
the way sea air swells old floorboards
Which is one sort of seasoning
Would I have been better as a flash in the pan
of life
as it were? Forever an Emo Virgin?
I remember when I was 12 telling my dad
I don't think I will
ever be in a relationship
and I will never have
sex
He said Oh, you will. You will be a little
sensualist.
What a gross thing to say
I had a vision of smearing lard down the front
of a man's button down
A large amount in the breast pocket
Smoothed out across the top like when you
measure flour in a cup
