No signs of snow and I'm getting so tired
changing seasons surely recognizable
as the sometimes unimaginable conductor
of the trembling tide
they're so sure of their willingness to separate
from each other
we listen with our heads tilted slightly arched upwards
waiting to do whatever the precipitation tells us
A will unhinged, swift in restraining
our lunatic notions
but we'll be all right
wind kissed wrists with a touch like rough bark
all your exploding nations submit a smile
flaming chariots abandoned
in ruinous metallic strips of flesh
the source of fuel
to power this engine of eating too terrible to know
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