seven planes 
on still points

leaf mulch
subject verb and object
in disarray

may day! may day!
the entire shebang
is crashing down

winter wind
a girl tunes in 
to the pine

right wing bias
passengers hurtle towards
a revolution

leaf shadows
dancing with the languor
of the sun

no trump deal
with each breath
caring less

half a day-moon
sunset cannot tint it
in blazing clouds

word-weak moon
awe erupts from me
in groans

cold comfort . . .
my breath blooms in
suspended animation