ground frosted
in the late winter light,
waiting to thaw.
cold,
the empty walls
of silence
spread over
everything.
what do we know
and what can we never know.
but we tell ourselves,
there is no end
to it all.
this sourceless
dream of sight.
radiant nothing.
crystalline spring.
Samuel Gilpin is a poet living in Portland, OR, who holds a Ph.D. in English Lit. from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, which explains why he works as a door to door salesman. A Prism Review Poetry Contest winner, he has served as the Poetry Editor of Witness Magazine and Book Review Editor of Interim. A Cleveland State University First Book Award finalist, his work has appeared in various journals and magazines, most recently in The Bombay Gin, Omniverse, and Colorado Review. His chapbook Self-Portraits as a Reddening Sky will be out soon from Cathexis Press.