Rain or shine or
harsh or mild
or spring or
sometime otherwise—either way
appears perfect-
ly fine
to looming companies
of dark
birds colonizing
thoughtlessly above-
ground
power lines—strung
along in whatever
noon or gloaming
gloomy suburban
landscape is showing—that
our poet's noble
spirit first rose
then chose
to unmake—only
now can't seem
to quite rake-
up—the scattered circuitous
contents of
his flaky mind in.