The Name of This Intersection Is Frost

Monochromatic kaleidoscope of winter. Limited components revolving, generating a shifting mosaic that replicates the passage of the winter days themselves. A modeling of time, its observable passage through the observations of weather, interior and exterior. Seasons, shifting in microns, are the recurring vocabulary of time itself. This limited vocabulary, the vocabulary of nearly identical instants, forms the center of time’s concealed circularity. To make this available in language requires a particular patience of attention. There are few elements on the face of the traditional watch-the action is circular and repetitive. The elements of late winter-what we can perceive-do perceive-arrive, if closely observed, on a sparsely adorned cylinder. There is a mathematics to the passage of time-a sense of odds-percentages-chances-intrinsic in time’s forward motion. Yet, how can this strange, wondrous circularity be expressed on the page-where word must follow word-the project of the poem may be to arrange a paradox we live beside in such a way that we can enter it, inhabit it, view it intentionally, from the inside.