sloping from the TransCanada:


a road crew to repair the prairie rain that slid the hill down the sidewalk


three riders on one wheelchair, chasing cross-traffic


a pedestrian bridge where kids leap up, just as the cars pass beneath


used spiderman webs, dangling from rescue trees


wading pool asthma


and three blackbirds, pecking at peanut shells beside the hot yoga shala



could tomorrow pack in murderball and taxes, a porch sonata and processed wedding speeches, emails to two Karls, and leg passports?


when didn’t hot-and-bothered last all night?


but how much ink on paper defines a thorough edit?


A Voice, then a Crow.


friends fly east, west, and north. I sit facing south, in the shade, late in the evening, on a flat piece of cement, dying for loopholes


and when tomorrow isn’t what the early-bird brings?




Photo By: nayee*