Friday, January 30, 2015



Bell-crack cold a month now with no sign of snow.
Bushy squirrels mating in spider branches bare

as nails. Corpses arrive in crystal dawns:
slumped in a bus shelter, stretched out in a truck, curled

beneath charred junk in a vacant house set blazing.
Crosstown digging continues. Hardhats yellow and blue,

orange vests chirp a crayoned spring. Chipped manhole
covers glint beside access shafts steaming black.

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