It isn't chess. It doesn't expect the homestretch or the check. Each line braves rejection of the every, edits restless all into a space that's still the space of least commitment, distilling latitudes in draft. It would domesticate the feral dusk and stockpile dawn. It would be commensurate, but settles for less, settles prairies in its channels.
Great plains roar and waterfall, yawn and frost between the lines.
From hunger, from blank and black, it models erotic stopped tornadoes, the high relief of trees. One with the twister in vista glide, and the cricket in the ditch, with riverrain and turbine's trace. Inside the flux of flesh and trunk and cloudy come, within the latent marrow of the egg, the amber traveling waves is where its vantage lies. All rights reserved. Large view of wraparound jacket design by Susan Shapiro.