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
I
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.