phlegmy fog
the day coughs
won’t start
easily
thin tree maze
shadow calibrates
a headache
buffet
the breeze
after all
muddling through
all elbows and regret
why can’t I
shut up about the
moon or prophesy
over this still bug
or forget
how to cook an egg
whistle or
black hills the
dark sky clear
the way you
cold bright spring