H e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i v e s E d i t i o n

RANDY ROARK

Winter

A December day wavering between sun-brilliance

and snow, the river rippling like an alabaster jar

filled with ever-changing skittish jewels—

a decayed church with the roof and walls fallen in,

a rough stone door of cold smoky shadows

descending into where the dead are buried,

the cool silvery atmosphere stone-colored, flinty,

austere, grey as this constant seeking after difficulty.

[From the author’s Washington D.C. Notebook, originally published in NHS 2006,http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs06/Roark.htm.]