kenneth william snow

i promenade through passages
of crusted, concrete memory
and revel in plasticity
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All I want for Christmas is Peace
All I want is war to cease
In the homes and on the street
Peace on earth and joy to greet
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6AM

Saturday morning
brisk, late-fall chill,
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I am a yellow dog
who would rather be
a toad. Too many frogs
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she fell in lust with you
what was she to do?
little versed in sex
her first would be your next
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I am Snow, I am
I am cold, be damned
I am silent long
I am silent song
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Henry David Thoreau was not a recluse or hermit
It’s true he spent many hours in solitude at Walden,
writing and contemplating nature; however
he frequented the town of Concord when the
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Another chance to be the cad
Presents itself in guise of lad
Intent on causing mindless grief
Through wicked strokes of master thief
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typically Memorial Day
is cold and gray
somber...sacred
selfless
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He pushed his 300-pound body
as father withdrew
way back to the Delaware
to Thunder Road and Wounded Knee
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Brother Jesse thinks he’s black
You and I know better than that
Brother George thinks he is white
You and I know that’s not right
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Flecks of wisdom in my beard
Short gray hairs twisting weird
Reminding me of days long past
When life for me went by too fast
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absurdity reeks
sun bleached shore to mountain peak
apathy now speaks
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Lust, you vicious fiend
Clad in cloak of earnest love;
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Yestermorrow days
Of hazy summer substance
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Haiku, like beauty
Is beheld by diverse eyes
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thursday night folly,
the weekend hard on my heels;
monday morning death
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Watchful walk through woods
Reveals ecological
Majesty…martyred
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So she said,
“Write, you whore…”
and I thought…I am
a whore, that is
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