OPTIONAL POETRY

A hematoma where the shot went in, sore arms and clouds– that kind of aching morning that passes too quickly into day, piebald sky, the palest blue, a tepid invitation. And down to the waterfront the sound of progress, or of progression, metal frames sprouting up, or expulsed from the earth– a shower of sparks by the welder’s elbow, a joint, a joint is where you feel it first, a change in the weather, a […]