My thoughts are adrift of late, and I haven't figured out why.
As usual, somebody else can say it better.
Sunday Verse
Octavio Paz
Immemorial Landscape
for Jose de la Colina
Airily flutters
slips
among branches trunks poles
lazily
hovers over
the high electric fruit
it falls
aslant
now blue
on the other snow
Made
of the same immaterial as shadow
it casts no shadow
As dense
as silence
this snow
is snow, but it burns
Headlights
drill quick tunnels
collapsed
in a moment
Night
riddled
grows inward
grows night
Obstinate cars
go by
all
in different directions
to the same destination
One day
the streetlights will explode
from their iron stalks
One day
the bellowing river of engines
will be choked
One day
these houses will be hills
once more
the wind in the stones
will talk only to itself
Aslant
among the shadows
unshadow
will fall
almost blue
on the earth
The same as tonight
the million year old snow