Monday Poem

In the Middle of Hosanna

snow’s piled against the generator Hosanna
smooth white talus
at the foot of sheer thought in
arctic regions of mind

through glass the near tangle
of bare forsythia beneath draped wires
pole to pole is a snap of unchecked ruminations
that fold upon themselves in crazy chiaroscuro
a dispensation of light expected in a skull of whims
while further right the barrel arc of a stone wall
familiar now as arrays of spots on the back of a hand
is as solid as the conviction of crystals in a cool savanna
between here and the neighbor’s shed in the middle of

Jim Culleny