just one of many,
many transmissions ending
mid-
just one of many,
many transmissions ending
mid-
at rooftops, streams
of steam from heater vents
stand no chance
“Hush” she said,
as if she meant to name
a passing creature
a sky like
sagging muslin—above it,
weight
the line
of works and words stretches—
memory thins
pages
like stepping stones—numbered
plots of white ground
no
contest—mere limbs and
conjoined twins
sun glinting
from the last stubborn
pile of gray snow
vague versus
ambiguous—which means
to be which?
a gift in case
I forget to say thanks for
little mysteries