Finding interesting things in my notebooks. By the time the month's out, I imagine every last page will be exhausted.
#2. Ode to the ice cube
Once we built it temples, worshiped its
ephemeral form, mist and drop made
solid in the cool blue dark, blocks veined
with winter even on a sultry
afternoon, smell of snow embedded
in their sweat. That was before freon,
before boxed cold was zirconium
cheap and common, forgotten once
the heavy door swung shut. Once we kept it,
precious, melting among the jewels as
Taglione* did in her glowing
Cornell box, memento of what must’ve
been a dream. Ice could still evoke heaven,
then--receding glacier, chipped from stars.
04/03/07
*note: see "Taglione's Jewel Casket," Joseph Cornell, 1940. It's stuck in my mind for ages, and now has a home.
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