i.
the screen flinched
that wintry yearning
which languishes in warmth
& perhaps I am most desperate
for fantasies
of affection
in winter, bringing dialogue
inside
Winter the aesthete
casting new molds for beauty
Winter as the desire
of how to orient desire
ii.
Winter
which grows longer than the year
every year
even this past multitudinous march
these variants that spring
iii.
Winter when our rock is closest to the void
Winter when the earth unearths itself
Winter when grief must be acknowledged
however briefly
to found the fantasy of a new beginning
iv.
but I write this far from snow
where trees are individualists
of sugars, decide foliage alone
and may not retire at all.
it is wet, verdant, fungal
and these flowers berries
spores are dreams
more direct than mine. among
themselves they whisper "eat
regularly" "share sunshine or shade"
"hope publicly" "rot gracefully" "it's
okay to be digested, though you lose
some sweetness" or so I self-centrally
hear, here between winter
and the fantasy of Winter,
between life and desire,
shorter days and shorter nights,
a warm surface,
the cold air