The Immanent Moment
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by Kevan Manwaring
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SAMPLES
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The Sound of Snow
falling on snow.
A deepening silence.
The city is still.
Platforms empty.
Roads unburdened
of their incessant freight.
Trees, shuddering in the sudden wind,
exfoliate ice blossom.
There’s probably a word –
in an Arctic culture accustomed to
and observant of its nuances –
for this kind of snow.
Powdered crystal
over softer layers:
a cake of ground glass
impossible to roll
into a snow torso –
like making dough
without water.
Churned up by
excited scurryings,
sledge runs,
snowman trails,
the moulds of dog noses,
bird feet runes.
Squeaking polystyrene
under boots –
like some cheap special effect.
To find a snowfield
unmarked by man –
to be the first
to place one’s foot
in virgin regions.
To make one’s mark
and to know it is
the original.
Not to follow
in the blurred footfalls of others,
but to be the pioneer,
breaking trail.
One foot after another
into freshly fallen flakes.
Boot soundlessly slipping
into the place waiting for it.
Walking on angel down.
No one around.
No direction –
except your own.
Nothing to listen to
except
the sound of snow
falling on snow.
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Song of the North Wind
Wild North Wind
frosty breath from the broken teeth of glaciers,
breaching spume of sperm whales,
endless stillness of the taiga,
ineffable Fata Morgana of the aurora borealis.
Wild North Wind
unsentimental, austere,
you suffer no fools –
cut the wheat from the chaff,
strip bare all illusions.
Wild North Wind
your howling song sends men bosky,
makes seadogs batten down hatches –
become winter stay-at-homes, hearth-tenders, coal-biters,
nurture the fires of families, recite sagas, nurse grudges.
Wild North Wind
grey-cloaked raider, storm-herder,
all bow to your power –
mightiest of winds, bringer of the white death,
the cold kiss of eternal peace.
Wild North Wind
a grim giant striding the land,
heavy boots on rooftops, dislodging drift –
tile-clatterer, sky-strafer,
son of the midnight sun.
Wild North Wind
when will you stop your restless search for vengeance?
When will you cease your bloodfeud with summer?
When will your tundra heart thaw?
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