OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
Orion festoons
the bare and crooked branches
of a black walnut
the light of the crescent
moon is as weak
as an old man’s piss
from over the ridge
the interstate highway
roars and thunders
it’s tranquility with jake brakes
the moon passing
behind contrails
for a moment i too
long to go somewhere
in a dark automobile
at the speed of dreaming
as full of purpose
as a swarm of bees