The ambiguity of snow Dog wishes, buried in squinty sun may never sprout deeper dreads down under may deface even terror’s stun gun before bright dawn pours on white cloth buffered over white strain and shows no blood on the collar- but the dead ground, bone’s crypt, dazzles, unwinds a drape to hide a corpse stuffed in.
Appelbaum, whom we must thank for his work at New Paltz’s Codhill Press as well as for his poetry, acquits himself well, writing of big topics with a light hand using a spare, short line. – Chronogram