Break out the ego cleats
my wife is lightning:
tomorrow’s surf board.
O stanzaic nation
wake the blue, brilliant
crescendo of French horns
anointed.
A free double feature
about Death Valley,
she eternals me.
In the lens there is a great distance
lounging
beautiful as a volunteer.
Demure, all nerve
the farthest music still audible,
we hail a taxi made of bamboo.
