in calendar light

nothing nearly happens

the weather carved into

our mirror now

ghosts of plain air

the wind ends somewhere

in the system

yesterday can wait

CRUSHED ECHOES BLOAT IN HEAT

SUMMER LIGHT LIKE CAUTION TAPE

CRYING WITH GREED BETWEEN SKY AND OUTSIDE

DELTA SIGN FOR THEREFORE

THREE DOTS FOR CONTINUITY

THE NEXT GREAT LACK

OH I KNOW THEY’LL HAVE TO OPERATE

AT THE LAST ANNIVERSARY OF NOON

WHIRLPOOLS OF MEDICINE

SPIT GREENSCREENS

ALL I ASK IS NO ESCAPE