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I was in the dark. And you showed me Orion’s belt


The Winter-Maker.

Out the bedroom window, ancient harbinger of ancient season, things unchanged and unfathomable.

Why is it so difficult to pull up and out of that lightless mind mine, to see?

That faint oracle was shining distinct. And you saw it too. Next to me in the dark.


I try, little duck, to pull up up and across to the other side.

Does the Winter-Maker guide me or hinder me?

Shingebiss goes on and on and always the darkness lifts. The next season comes when the chemicals, little soldiers, rearrange.

The stars are fixed, but I am not.


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