Salt

The moon looks like a hangnail.
Undissolved rock salt and discarded cans:
the glacial leftovers of the movements
of modern living; the streets
are evacuated bowels
of Ameri-can consumption.
The weekend is escaping like steam from
a faulty radiator.
I’m coming down in a cold. Salute to the winter.
Salute to the spilled nights that ink my thoughts
and give excuse for dreaming. It isn’t [...]