Month: February 2013

tibia. fibula. talus.

talus, tibia, fibula

she recites the names slowly in her mind
to reduce her rising panic
stares, glassy eyed at the beauty around her.

places called Snowbird, Sundance
Powder Mountain, Eagle Point.


Seconds have passed into eons
as she lies in agony
She knows the exact second that
snow spilled into her mouth as ice crystals
And the spiral turn that
Shattered her.

She feels shock move across her quickly
at 10,000 feet on Hidden Peak.

highly desirable
Silence and seclusion

Now give rise to sheer terror.

She thinks of all the things
She has yet to do at the bottom
Of the mountain
and of the people waiting for her descent.
she lists in scrambled snow ledgers

she recites all the names of the bones
As best she can remember them
She knows them well
For she has been pinned and steel plated before
her marrow knows she will again.

None helps the rising
As she piles snow around the break

She knows
Time as an odd perception.

A graceful swoop down a powdered ski slope
probably takes the same amount of time
As ski patrols and stretchers and ambulances

She lies on tundra
She knows waiting is her future

an eon of seconds.


Oscar Joseph is always painting old houses.
We go to visit him with a bottle of powerade
because he forgets he is diabetic
He works until his hands tremble with fatigue.

I smell the oppressive fumes
At the street corner. I barge through the door shouting,
“Oscar Joseph, Why are you painting with the windows closed
On a warm winter day?”

His eyes look a little funny and his words seem slurred,
“ window swon’t open.”

I get that alot.
I’m not so good at doors
But windows…..

A pry bar
Some dubious looking knives from the garage sale outside
A soft mallet, exacto blades, screwdrivers
and motivation of Fear for his glazed eyes.

I tear away at the stained frame

seals of time
Pounding with putty knife
Feeling the glass tremble in its

wondering if I will adequately be able to explain
resulting injuries to an ER doctor
“well, I was trying to open an ancient window
with a meat fork and kitchen knife…”

And POP.
as westerly prairie winds
billow dust through the stinging vapor haze
along with sounds of geese at 2000 feet

I am tiring at the fourth north window
Yellow Dog is coughing and pulling on my pant leg
He’s my canary in a coal mine.

Oscar Joseph is laughing his deep rolling laugh again
spirits cleared from his head.
No longer speaking in tongues
but in real words
Most of which I can decipher
for I have developed a few phantoms of my own

He squeezes my smarting arm.

“I didn’t realize.
I didn’t know the windows would open.
I didn’t know how to start.”

I am sore and achy tonight
but I contemplate on my life’s work:

the Thousand Thousand Times
I reached toward seething, smoldering hearts