by Tom Saer

I found some orange peel, carrot peel,
on the pavement,
left for Chester Burnett…
Peeling off the snow from a branch
I leave it to fall over me.

My hands, a change, a pretty Sun in them,
press on the snowman’s belly,
he collapsed before I got there; he was rigid, the palms would never fit.

My shoes I fill with snow,
I cut a thorn, I move in the middle of a white field.
The sky is evangelical, I touch it. Love finds its way, I dance again, the sky is empty. 

I have lots of things.
To be kind, I need to drink,
my bottle’s still at home.
A piece of my artery points to
The cloud touches
My feet arrive above the river, it is accomplished.
Half the world has seen me, dancing atom, not so peaceful, scarf and gloves, painted blue.