by Raphael Moser
Terrible beaches washed along the car
Stacked in carthage
Grapplers, floors, concrete blocks
Ordinary brindled days
Confiscated
Dark white caps disintegrate
Smithereens
The sky is a shroud
Chill owns the marrow
Huddled under miscalculation
The flyaway overhead
The gap
Rime choked
the language is surprising and holds my interest… I like the length you seem to be inclined to work with these days; it suits you to assemble and juxtapose so few lines… i am still thinking about this one