At our dimming sleighs,

At the spinning threat of death,

At meaning's infinite black glaze

On our icy breath -


By such slim

Margins and their

Celestial whim

Can old men stare


At bestial dreams,

Their airblown threads

And failing seams

Blanketing the sleds,


Because the world's slight

But sparkling indices

Decided overnight

To freeze.


December 24th, 2003


Redone January 13th, 2004

Tippet Alley

July 23rd, December 17th and 18th, 2004