frozen water pipes --
rural, red monstrosity --
a face like his face




dissonant stranger --
for all she knew, it was night --
neat as a suntan




fistful of closures --
we wanted to bend her clocks --
then the march ended




their featured gambit --
a conference of ailments --
remembering rocks



oversight bunker --
the rest of us will wait here --
his irony zone




they seek an ellipse --
keeping the tome fires burning --
she hires breakfast clowns




evangelicals --
“there are turtles in our soup!” --
a rolling abyss




single file costumes --
in the wee small hours of --
“pitt, pitt, pitt,” pitt-pitt





ripples on concrete --
to rehearse, or, or not to? --
where there are seven




his crooked fingers --
an underrated province --
torn between the scales