If Sylvia wrote another Christmas Song

The glowing black nights begin to shrink:

Hungry and sleepless we are now.

There are red and green lights

strung inside this winter sea

Like stiches through a sword.

We hanker for sugar and snow

For smoke and ribbon

Because we are all the gentle infant

Naïve and faithful

Rocking ourselves with wood and hay

Hoping, earnestly, the cheerful Yule

Will mend this last coal wound

So we can feast again.

minding.

I.

The sunscreen smell leaking out of the burning creases of the eye

As the blue of the sky bleeds and bleeds and bleeds as if it can’t be murdered

The wet multicolored grass just mown in the morning soft bunnies under the new sneaker that smells like new paint

And the way the green blades stick like ingenuous smiles to the rubber

The pink winter sky

A silent blanket heavy and cold

And keeps the legs and thoughts close

II.

The mind is a technology

To which I am addicted to its imposing voice

And its not that I am against doing with the mind

It’s just that I cannot do with out it

And like any machine it gets confused

III.

The mind is a camera

And the world is the world

IV.

The short walk to the car during winter

All the houses on the street smell like fire

The hands are warm and the face is cold

And the leather seats are perked inside the car.