“Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?”

Of Note: This is a new version of the first poem I ever wrote, really. An edited version, maybe? Or an overworking...
Or, Z says "You are so sad. Why?" or "It's not good or bad, but intriguing."
--Define Natural Disaster.



Or the cartwheeling storm winds
or the inches of map keys
to steady the trembling into

a relative distance between

(younger then)

and silent
when I saw the Great Flood
watched trees disappear
an Arch under water led nowhere
per
say
We meet on the Equinox
at the New Madrid Fault
and wait to be swallowed
cling to the still amid shake sounds


I'm certain you'll sick of
such yellow haze
join in the grey middle
after your gold rush

and we’ll shout it loud