the streets are sown with salt
and wind blown snow rises up like
a restless spirit peeling from its bones
with a howl

and the town too seems
to shift
trapped within its skin tight
white coat
its anonymous white coat

at the window an old woman
strips away the gauze
with her eyes
recalling when all was young
letting her orderly letter fall
forgetting to bind it
in its envelope

salt stings her cheek
as it traces its way upon her skin
sown with salt like the cold hard road
the clock chimes the year's end






--->I'm still not really sure how I feel about this poem. I came up with that first line weeks before I came up with the rest of it, and wanted to use it. It seems to fit, but at the same time I'm not sure it's right. This isn't a typical journal entry where all those things such as what I'm watching, reading, listening to, and drinking really help, but I put it in for fun. Since I couldn't fit the authors down there that's Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" and Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" which I am reading. Feel freet to comment, or even make suggestions, same with my art. I'm still learning my way around.