The first time?
So long ago—that brown-eyed boy…
How can I say thi s, your Reverences,

As the black wings close in on you,
their circling shadows blighting the sand,
and your limp legs buckle, far

Instantaneously and repeatedly, Blank serves as a station for our senses, making possible an impression of continuance.

It’s not
because I am a land
lover

Many friends came with us
and whoever did not come was no longer a friend.

The brain has powerful filters
that screen out most
thoughts and images:

A human begins
by claiming

to be something else:

a red bird
in a picture book;

a little red
Corvette.

Flag lolling 
on its pole
like a dog’s tongue.

What’s to like
if not contrast?

Shadows beneath
the model’s sharp

cheekbones, her ample
yet precise lips.

Don’t worry.
We have armies
of showrunners