the echo of
a small box
through drops
down the window
to one side the
grey cloud to the
other the sunset
and the cold air
through the window
which won’t close properly
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
air wormhole: cloud
clouds wormhole: a maturity
echo wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
grey wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
open wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
sunset wormhole: the strange mauve relief of / this burgundy-gritty encounter
windows wormhole: oh-pen too
