……half way halfway
of the west-to-the-west
resemble tight spray
re-eve- to pass through a hole and back: a miniscule turn, a self-curve
the horizon a band
to move under, never long wet, never long dry
weather centre reads lo. L.O.
sublunary its coldlike breath around itself a white square on the window
where the glass is a chart
its finework the sky
far Draco, Auriga,
? \ /
A flat spindle sketch
take it away
hold it to the pull-blind light
that leaves the house so.
Numeral. This to that. To that this. A trace
like birdseed, bright dots on a basin, a triptych times two
and through it, the street
a tiny icedrift
can’t be drawn
in its mingling figure.
How it works in me, it leases [lets out] makes me say
yes, there will be precipitation tonight [on the eaves]
later mist slipping in airfoil chill
and o [l.o] the weather centre, its black stitch print
in a halfway life
through a hole on a glass 
where L is half
And I’m sure there was something in the road that fell from you or me.
An acrobat or a face.
A cirrus spill lid fall lid fall. Just shy of one cloud.
In the lateness of the day, silvering gladly
I left prints in the snow to the
dark incline run-off holes
point to point
pain vs. gravity
loosening space about me.