Late Winter Still Life, 1960
There is this moment in space that I
continue to bend back over
myself, one that I had mentally marked,
saying, “I will remember
this moment.” Today I’m flipping time in
on itself, connecting two
points into a single moment again,
folding forty years of distance,
even though I cannot explain the point of
either. Points are elusive.
It was late winter. There was no snow.
My face was stung red.
I was positioned solemnly in the street
in front of my house
leaning into the hard strokes of wind
with a confidence that has
disappeared with age. I don’t
remember arriving or leaving,
just being there. Gunmetal grey sky
slashed with deep cuts
like rips in a coal vein that has
been there forever, waiting to
be discovered. I distinctly recall
thinking how much I mattered,
not how little. My clothes were tinged
with late afternoon frost,
my plaid red jacket hooked and closed
with clasps that clipped
together with a magic trick, my frozen
right shoelace undone,
worn grey corduroy pants with an
ironed on patch over the knee,
rising tide above the ankles. It was
a distinct thought. “Remember
this moment”. Mark it. Tell yourself that
you will never forget.
“Remember this moment”.
Imbed it so that
it would remain, for
If I lived long enough, I would
to be able to say that I thought
this thought. Did I make a pact
with God and promise that I would
never forget. Had the final errant
bird on the high voltage wire,
whose perfect stillness had caught my
attention make everything perfectly clear?
I do recall that the air was frozen and
that the angels could not fly.
George Korolog is a poet living in Woodside, California. He works in the left hemisphere of the world with a right hemisphere brain. Somehow, he makes it work. His poetry, flash fiction and non-fiction have been widely published in over forty print and online journals such as Word Riot, Forge, Punchnels Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Blue Fifth Review, Poets and Artists Magazine, Red River Review, Poetry Quarterly, Connotation Press, The Chaffey Review, Thin Air, Grey Sparrow Journal and many others. His poem, From Tending Sheep to Confusion on the Amtrak 10:50 was awarded second prize in the 2011 Tom Howard/John H. Reid Poetry Contest. He was a runner up for The 2012 Contemporary American Poetry Prize for his poem, Soul Stone. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and is an active member of The Stanford Writers Studio. His first book of poetry, Collapsing Outside the Box, was published by Aldrich Press in November 2012. His second book, Raw String will be published by Finishing Line Press in 2013 and he is busy working on his third book, God’s Avenging Concubines.