#last concourse

but these frames are six-sided boxes

which include one fragment note of sound

one fragment fluid: a smell

abrupt snippet of energized voice spoken

mixed with the smell of spilled motor oil,

mixed with the holler of a firetruck flying

in the distance, far beyond the tight icon of a

tree’s orange leaf above a tarmac bike trail

a caterpillar has vanished and left a hole

A spider has vanished and left a web

An industry has vanished and left its grain belt.

Split the moment all apart:

The tree’s parallax drives across my eyes,

overlaps with the fleeing siren’s hidden red source.

The silence of the frog’s song stopped

corresponds with the see-through wound;

an unusual telescope brings far buildings to my eye.

Brown iron rusts from right to left across the earth

Art by Coarsen