On Most Surfaces (inuit)

The Gathering

The frost hits me in the eye

and wakes me

these are blurry winters

and I cannot see



I walk into the white light of the snow

when the sun comes

I break it with my shadow

which tells me where I go



The frost hits me in the eye

and wakes me



I am the snow falling down on you

I tear up your face with my frost

And make you run to somewhere warm

When I come I see you get away

I burst out about your emptyness



The frost hits me in the eye

and wakes me

these are blurry winters

and I cannot see