the spacing the days take, i'd take pictures and post some semblance how
the pacing the day stake, to set wood into the chest
back in slats, the way of holding a treasure: one heart gold, the next leaden, the fourth a mirror of questions
it is raining or about to rain.
the green shutters eye their closed window.
in another hour the churches will shake off mounds of pigeon.
in the museum the art work strikes
a comatose crowd of foreigners sets about boarding a bus--lines of luggage hunched on the sidewalk
I am hopeful
minus signs and waving