Everything At Once

Thick precipitation flicks and sticks and tricks, festoons
the day today: hops – dances deftly all along whatever liminality
keeps it what weather pundits call a “wintry mix”: alluringly
unknowable, it plops and shoots and splinters into undecided

hybrid quizzes: jagged lusty daughters, sons of ice and snow
and slush and other unexampled forms of nearly frozen water:
cold as a calamity outside! – though looks as beautiful as
a kaleidoscope clip-cutting metamorphic shards: now into naked

creatures prancing through the branches: lady’s on the top,
man on the bottom, gazing at you through the freeze, adhering
to the brick of New York City with which they have clear
particular affinity: you’re honored to be in their nude and graceful

dangerous vicinity: remaining, with them, neither solid, gas
nor liquid; nap, and dream that February’s having sex
while God plays baseball – watch! the batter swings and bunts!

As usual, the Universe is daring to be everything at once.

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