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    Body Of Winter
    Body Of Winter
    Body Of Winter
    Ebook152 pages54 minutes

    Body Of Winter

    By Brian Prousky

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    About this ebook

    In these exquisitely rendered poems, people fall in and out of love, in and out of religious belief and in and out of accepting the distance between their imagined lives and the lives they live. They look back as much as forward and pick mercilessly at the open wounds of failed relationships. They inhabit geographies that are both their emancipators and captors. And they find joy, or succumb to sorrow, amid life’s inescapable ephemerality and fragility.


    Breathtaking in its range of styles, Body of Winter, at its heart, is a vivid reflection of the best and worst of us all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNext Chapter
    Release dateFeb 2, 2023
    Body Of Winter

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      Book preview

      Body Of Winter - Brian Prousky

      Part One

      Sunblind

      Since I’m Adrift From The Principles

      Since I’m adrift from the principles

      of worms and roots and anxious seeds,

      of green stalks with tall aspirations,

      since I can’t squeeze bleeding earth out of my pen

      or raindrops with dark pupils,

      since I can’t stretch my arms in the style of a waking bear

      and tear flesh off a trembling morning,

      since I’m a dry toad with a congealed tongue,

      every daydream brings me to a place

      where a pale sky shows through

      a fading outline of the moon

      and rushing black water

      winds between gray lacquered rocks and smooth stumps,

      seeping in marsh-beds of wild grass

      and gurgling in mud.

      I admit I can’t decide

      if they’re imagined or familiar to me,

      the bulrushes with indignant attitudes,

      the deceptive tiny bugs

      who dissolve in puddles,

      the patient copper hawks who glide for hours

      before diving at snakes,

      the milkweeds with pursed lips and full cheeks

      who explode in feathery tirades.

      In every place I inhabit I strain to hear

      the music of chipmunks

      in squeaky trolly wheels,

      swans drying their wings

      in clapping blinds,

      claws scratching bark

      in wallpaper being stripped,

      stampeding buffalo

      in roaring subway tunnels.

      I have come to realize

      there is nothing more important

      than to remember

      the land that bore you desires your demise,

      the bird who guards your nest and brings you your first worm

      is a buzzard who dreams of harvesting your flesh,

      the otter who guides you safely downstream

      is a traitor leading you down a path of ambush

      and the song of a cricket lulling you to sleep

      is a summons to your predators.

      I have come to realize

      there is nothing more regrettable

      than to forget

      the surrender of a cornered deer

      and drowning bee,

      the tears of a hooked fish,

      the pleading eye of a dry sunflower,

      the scream of a weed when you pull up its roots

      and blood in a lake

      when you slice through its skin.

      Your Love Grew A Tree Inside Me

      Your love grew a tree inside me.

      Roots grew into my legs and I stood resolute by you.

      Branches grew into my arms and I embraced you.

      Leaves grew into my fingers and I stroked your face.

      Bark grew into my skin and I was impenetrable

      and protected you from harm.

      A canopy grew into my hair and spread over us

      and kept us dry when it rained.

      Fruit grew from me and we were never hungry.

      Seeds fell from me and other tress grew around us

      and we were never lonely.

      In the winter, leaves fell from me and I made you a bed

      and blanket and kept you warm.

      And because I was a tree and had no heart,

      there was nothing to break

      and our love was forever.

      Heading West

      I saw black trains

      that sped through blue air,

      yellow fields bent by wind,

      combines that flattened them.

      I saw men in blue suits,

      heard artless descriptions of sex

      followed by admiring words

      like, Way to go!

      I saw swarms of black insects

      like floating caves.

      I saw small cities

      thoughtlessly constructed

      like children’s blocks

      spilled on pavement.

      I saw clothes on clotheslines

      and women standing by them.

      They stared at blue air

      with ink in their eyes.

      You And Me

      You and me, free,

      you and me.

      You and me, like geometry,

      you and me.

      You and me, intuitively,

      you and me.

      You and me, a history,

      you and me.

      You and me, fadingly,

      you and me.

      I Wanted To Paint Like Sonia Delaunay

      I looked out my window one morning

      at the sun and sea.

      The sun was orange. The sea was blue.

      I ran onto a dock and untethered a boat.

      The boat was red with a white sail.

      It belonged to someone else.

      In that moment I didn’t care.

      I wanted to see simple shapes.

      I wanted to paint like Sonia Delaunay.

      An orange circle,

      a blue square,

      a white triangle,

      a red rectangle,

      a whole world.

      My Love is a Striped Little Bird

      My love is a striped little bird

      have you heard

      lightly she lands on a leaf

      she’s quickly sated on opinions stated

      so carefully I choose each word

      My love flies in my window

      you know

      flutters beneath my sheets

      her chirping is sweet but always repeats

      I’m moving a bit too slow

      My love is more practical than me

      you see

      building us a cozy nest

      twigs and leaves she twists and weaves

      the while I reflect and rest

      My love

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