Blue skin scaled over the arched back of the sea, retching. The sick foam on the shore and on M–––‘s boots. His shadow on the cliff behind is of an ivy sort. It lingers after he departs. It weakens the wall. White salt stays on dried leather like a mountain range. M––– ponders over his…

Everything seems impossible To the soaked grass beneath the melting snow. And the leafless trees keep reaching Into the blue sky, hopelessly. My neighbor is out in his garden. Pulling Browned remains of summer from the earth. He leaves a pile I’ve read will shelter bees And the papery eggs of praying mantis. I cannot…