Snow, which is useful
for seeing through,
fattens as it falls. I take a picture
to send you then
another with
my fingers on the pane.
The alert languors. The dust
unsettles. Rust
details.
•
Almost is more than
most. The singer stepped aside,
apologized, then applauded where she’d been.
Groundling
doves, the livelong
sidelong.
Efficiency has done
what it can.
Like a bird hidden in the wings.
•
Foundling foundry
font.
My mosaic is an actual face
embedded in itself at
last at last.
Dust
on the carousel
horses on
the porch.
Wooden
dust.
•
Considering whether between the sun
should be brighter or shadow and is lightning
more anchor acorn
or sail.
•
As soon as you left I finished
the chicken wings
still crunchy. Couldn’t figure turn off
the headlights so
we drove.
Instead of fixing anything lived here
hacked rotten shed
boards from the base a fringe it
levitates.
The root of wan is bruised.
As one could be prayerful
yet pray for nothing have nothing
to pray for not even that state
to endure.
•
Or not that you made the bed but that you
opened the curtain or in making
the bed brushed open the curtain or pressing the neck
to compensate
the moan.
