there is this short shining sun
on this, not yet the shortest day
the shape of things bent light
oozing through blinds
kicking up dust
reconstituting stars
Tag Archives: December
no. 33
interpretations of the season wage on
boxing punch drunk under a laughing moon
as sunrise rewrites itself crisp
over yet another diseased landscape
no. 27
a Saturday stepped out of time
this warming December when once again
the world’s end doesn’t suit our sense of fashion