A more accurate assessment than the wind chill, the feels like temperature is what it feels like to an average adult walking outside in the shade. It is determined using a complicated formula based on humidity, wind speed, time of year, and type of ground cover. Normally the feels like temperature is measured in degrees but during the month of February I found it to be more effective to describe it with words.
Today it feels like . . .
a winter wonderland || I’m the only one not in a car || victory || the inside of an ice cube || the wind can’t make up its mind || more snow might be coming || it’s colder than it is || a different world emptied of others || someone drained the color out of the landscape || no fun || it’s a path for snowshoes not running shoes || it’s warmer than it is || spring is in the next room || freedom || hushshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh || I could run for another hour || this snow will stay forever || a strange dream || one too many shirts || I can finally get over myself || a good day to see David Lee Roth biking by || I hit the wrong button || harder to speak than to write || my shadow is giving me advice || my dead mom is here || sharp and crisp and brittle || it’s familiar even when it isn’t || floating, a ghost haunting the gorge || too much || I can finally unclench my jaw || I am capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason || I need some darkly hopeful poems || the birds are determined to make spring happen || the breath should be a poet’s central concern || everything is sepia toned, stuck inside our version of the past || I’m running up a big hill, into the sun || I should have listened to my body, especially my knee, when it told me not to run || it’s not a day to take the birds for granted ||
is the same as
the feels like
no metaphors no
only the IS
Can that be
This poem builds off of my feels like project from February 2019. During that month, I tried to record a feels like description for as many days as possible. For this expanded project, I read through all of my February entries from 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020 and picked out phrases or descriptions that I wanted to use. I printed them out, cut them into strips, then arranged them on my desk. Finally I shaped them into a poem.
The February Feels Likes, a cento
Today it feels like . . . Everything is cold and nothing is totally frozen
Today it feels like . . . An enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous
Today it feels like . . . A better view
Today it feels like . . . I will push a window up and step inside
Today it feels like . . . The winter-deep, the annual sink
Today it feels like . . . Memory—died
Today it feels like . . . I could be clearer, say more
Today it feels like . . . I don’t know what happens to us
Today it feels like . . . An atom bomb right in the eye
Today it feels like . . . There was another possible outcome
Today it feels like . . . Forgiveness
Today it feels like . . . A sudden strangeness
Today it feels like . . . Three large rabbit-breaths of air
Today it feels like . . . Another circle is growing in the expanding ring
Today it feels like . . . I will sing a song that makes the bees proud
Today it feels like . . . They just stand there, looking like they look
Today it feels like . . . A threshold, an arch of entering and leaving
Today it feels like . . . The cold grows colder, even as the days grow longer
Today it feels like . . . hope’s a reptile waiting for the sun
Today it feels like . . . Soon enough
Today it feels like . . . A spring morning in childhood somewhere in the woods
This poem was written using lines from poems I gathered in February 2019 and February 2020.