You see the problem. To separate the act from the thing. As if the parts of some moment in history might be interchangeable with the parts of some other moment. How could that be? - Cormac McCarthy

Late winter lessons in weakness:

An icicle will snap under its own weight.

Late winter and identity:

No too snowflakes are the same. The secret,

though,

is no one cares -- unless you try really hard, each

becomes another,

reflecting white glances of all you've seen before.

To see the similarity is to see through a lens of desire,

An inconstant urge to want to want not to want or just to want.

the way it whips along my windows shows

the way the wind has wants, to enter, penetrate and pull

itself as deeply as it will go,

dissolve into the air I hold in here.

But no matter how I breathe it in, I cannot hold it still,

It is not me, no more than you.