winter poemshttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/winter poems, 2004-2005 poems about winter, seasonal poems, sadi ranson-polizzottien-US2008-09-07T16:31:31ZSquarespace Site Server v5.0.0 (http://www.squarespace.com/)a voidhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/28/a-void.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-28T17:56:02ZOn either side, a blank-fog abyss.
Hard to say which is which;
fall to heaven, fall to hell.]]>2.12 a.m | nychttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/28/212-am-nyc.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-28T17:54:01Zuncomfortably lonely; this yearning it parses miles.
Does it travel the Harlem current? Can you feel me?]]>the heavy swellhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/28/the-heavy-swell.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-28T17:52:21ZEach day I visit; tend to my sea,
my sea-change eyes reflected back its rippled greys.
This is the safe-harbor where I would bring you.]]>without certaintyhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/23/without-certainty.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-23T21:43:14Za criss-cross of promises, gleaming plait,
secured at the ends with a silk-indigo ribbon.
I knew with certainty every word I said,
I was your one true Believer – no limit to my faith,]]>summer's endhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/23/summers-end.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-23T21:41:20Za jarring awakening to first winter frost
    opposite of what was –
balm, spice, waxing privet.]]>blue hivehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/23/blue-hive.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-23T21:38:14ZA bee-space between each honeyed-comb ensures such warmth.
They swarm, buzz about the Queen, unseen, locked in her chamber.
My hands reach deep within,]]>winter's talehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/23/winters-tale.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-23T21:37:17ZWhat to say about summer’s love undone?
Splitting laughter has turned to winter’s spitting winds.
I am sideways and skidding, a millimeter short of a wreck.]]>sparklehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/17/sparkle.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-17T21:07:57ZThe sparkle, snow-bright, colored lights.
They flash only danger.]]>without air | without colorhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/6/without-air-without-color.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-06T03:06:52ZFirst frost last night left the bladed grass stiff.
Nothing here is soft. Summer solstice
when all things impossible were possible –]]>ashes to asheshttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/6/ashes-to-ashes.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-06T03:03:38Z- vacant yards. Only the ailanthus grows.
I remember their fecund, earthy summer scent.
       Things change.]]>bruiser, shehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/12/6/bruiser-she.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-12-06T02:58:37ZShe’s a four-foot ten bruiser,
all flank fat, no lean meat, just crackling.
Her nails wet, bloodied from scratching at my eyes.
She is a Dictator  - Mein Herr – Mein Fuhrer
following her good book Mein Kampf for easy reference
The rules are set; this or that verboten:
She’ll see us apart yet.
No matter we are cousins, she weaves a knot of no undoing,
Begs it off to the indefinite future – promise not to promise.
She’s a wheezing bellow sump-pump,
machine sucking yellowed bile from a crimson slit throat
virulent, loud, it sucks the room of oxygen, infects the air he breathes
It swallows him up
This is love he says, convinces himself daily;
repeat it like a mantra – pray that it comes true.
She is a plus-sized grinning Cheshire Cat,
yes, we’re all mad here, and we’re so so very angry.
The marks of her storm-trooper boots leave black skids –
obscuring the words of so many love letters years past.
Not even this undoing will content her:
she knows it in her folds, You cannot unring a bell.

]]>divest, then invest -http://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2007/1/25/divest-then-invest-.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2007-01-25T21:12:08ZYou should know that every thing you gave:

a note, a card, a book a film, a jar of honey, a card

with the slant of your pen and which bears my name

I have never discarded one. Each is bound, a photo

]]>walking the razor's edgehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2006/7/4/walking-the-razors-edge.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2006-07-04T18:48:47ZRocks thrown clear,they breach the sea wall,

Great crashing waves so full of stones.

I am tide stoned: an adulteress I.

Promenading without my scarlet A, yet still, it is visible.

]]>pier IIhttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2006/7/4/pier-ii.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2006-07-04T18:46:36ZUnholy kin, why the hard slap smack – ocean's wake-up call.

She breathes brine and salt, low-tide kelp.

It wafts in through the window. I am taken with its perfume,

heady and redolent – it stretches for miles, the seemingly infinite

]]>finger tipped with icehttp://tantmieux.squarespace.com/winter-poems/2006/2/15/finger-tipped-with-ice.htmlsadi ranson-polizzotti2006-02-15T16:18:21ZIt is as if the ice-storm herself

had taken her bony fingers to my hand

held it there a while, until my hands turned

dead, white and grey, why the blood had

gone missing! Has nobody noticed?

]]>