the smoke’s
filtered, in/out.
the sky’s moon is heaving
in the humid for the human.
it’s the sound change,
but it’s
not noise,
it’s animals.
remember your sign-
air? finding how to get
the most out of sighing.
it’s like
that place on that college
mountain, or that 70’s
house- burnt-yellow with brown
also, it’s the ten hostas
next to the tennis
racket, hanging in the psych ward.
when you’re there,
it heat’s inside/ out.
it’s peeling undone vegetable
skin, mulching out the root of
it, so it’s celcius-
98.6, and ambrosial.


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