- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Snow Cave Impasse
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Sitting in my snow cave
headlamp growing dim
end of December
here I am again,
Counting all my fingers
counting all my toes
wind outside howls
shrieks, gusts and blows,
I wish I had a bottle
of wine, some French bread
I have a block a cheese
and the Book of the Dead,
I have a vague idea
of what the weather's doing
whether it's abating
or whether, me, it's screwing,
I could be in The City
with a friend, or just alone
sorting out my schedule
with a smart telephone,
Or perhaps Homo Erectus
a million years ago
thinking evolution
has a long way to go,
Astrophysicists say
Earth is just a crumb
nothing of consequence
less than ho-hum,
But what we are IT
one of a kind
bivouacked in our snow cave
a dot in space and time ...
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