Snow Country
desolate the reach
of space a
curved line of
white empty as
the loneliness one
feels the tone
is different on
a day like
this she says
unaware that her
words fall like
snow in the
mountains soft quiet
in the roar
no one hears
* * *
Another piece from the eighties…this first appeared here in November 2015.
O at the Edges 
This is beautiful. Love the lack of punctuation. Like trying to make out shapes in a whiteout.
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Thank you, Don. When I wrote this I was experimenting with rhythm and flow. I’m pleased it works for you.
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Beauty.
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Thanks, Chris. An oldie, but I think it still holds up.
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beautiful!!
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Thank you.
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beauty and very good.
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Thank you!
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Rather special. Thank you for sharing.
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Thanks very much, Chris.
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Awesome!
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I’m so pleased you think so. Thank you!
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Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
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Thank you for reblogging!
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the way the lines carry their meaning over to the next clause is nicely handled. you get the feeling of drift of uniformity. Lovely as ever Bob.
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Thanks, Daniel. It is a bit shifty.
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Love it…would you be willing to share with us who the “she” of this poem is?
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It’s no one in particular, but rather a comment that any number of my friends could easily have made back then.
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Do you think some of them tell other friends in confidence that it was them? I recall this being quite the thing when Capote wrote Breakfast At Tiffany’s.
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I’m not certain that any of them have read the poem.
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…and by remember, I mean I remember seeing that in an interview. It’s not like Truman and I were friends. Just saying, in case anyone was wondering.
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Lovely!
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Thank you!
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When snow falls, it does remove a sense punctuation, a situation I am all too familiar with here in Hokkaido.
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I’ve always loved the sifting sound of snow, but am glad that we don’t have to deal with it here in Austin.
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