December’s Glowing Puzzle

Not shopping but out afraid
of the rain carried from the lake
neither deep nor very wet
running doorway to doorway
snow was expected finally
no sun no lights homely
as dim asphalt anticipating
nothing but more further
greater license and else.

He thought it was art
browsing in the old gallery
foot bumped a glowering poster
of circles of color which may
or may not have had labels
that could not be read from
up here where our heads are
Oh I like that, until lifted, seen
and then put down wordlessly.

This year is getting on, older
than the cliches of the season
which has donned layers like sins
jealousy greed avarice
in a list one covering the other
to be shunned except when
there is no sun and trees
are stripped feeling their blindness
laced with red and white certitude.

In the epicenter of the festivity
should a meal be an event
should simply speaking or getting out
of your car be conspicuous colorful
and ribbon-wrapped? Ah the hands
stimulated and hifalutin
pretending to direct the symphonics
must touch everything the eye
brushes its ear against.

Art calls out for its share
of commitment and the economy
mostly concentric and square
ardent and symmetric as a chocolate.
But now it is snowing where
will you curl up to not freeze
no art without fear without
a squeezing of the civil larynx
unriddling the rituals.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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