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