Winter Solstice

W
I
T
H
I
N
endless space
in tiny explosions of gasoline
my consciousness hardens into a wall.
I AM SEPARATE
from plum blossoms and mountains: 
aching teeth become movies
as I grow
young again.

Dark hair
and eyebrows
S
W
I
R
L
in delighted delusion
BIG MEMORIES OF PLEASURE
enwrap a mind
as substantial

as

a
drift

of 
snowflakes

onto a warm hood;
and less intelligent
than the thin
black
spider in the morning sink
before breakfast time.

Your smile is my kindness
and it thrills me

HAVE

NEVER

BEEN 
SO 
REAL

before

From Mule Kick Blues and Last Poems by Michael McClure. Copyright © 2021 by the Michael T. McClure Estate. Reprinted with permission of City Lights Books. citylights.com.