goodnight moon.

Five for Friday,

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

Still, the beloved may stay bitter as an ear

the tongue pressed

into, unwanted.

And the word end: spiney, finally-formed,

indents them and is

understood.

Alice Fulton, Babies

four

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

The city had such pretty clotheslines.

Women aired their intimate apparel

in the emery haze:

membranes of lingerie—

pearl, ruby, copper slips—

their somehow intestinal quivering in the wind.

Alice Fulton, Industrial Lace

three

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009.

Where are the stars, pristine

as great ideas? Behind clouds

the heavens saturate

with luminous dust, shuttles wearing halos

of earthdirt, light pollution

from jets fired to keep things

Alice Fulton, Where Are The Stars Pristine

on course.

two

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

Where inside, anglers ease lines through floor-

holes and the river underneath

is gauntleted with hooks to snag tomcod.

By day's end, window ledges bubble

Alice Fulton, Aviation

one

one from savannah to start off,

and one from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

up North where windows ignite early,

hanging the dark

with inner lives like tiny drive-in screens

showing underrated grade B stars,

Alice Fulton, Aviation

looking onto Pine Island Sound.

monday will start the showing of the first new window works-- 2 a day until 5-for-Friday.

lots of time sorting through too, too many files; but now something to show for it.

uhm, Hi-Pass without hi-pass.

spinach leaf.

insides for the in-between time.

was.

modern life.

topography.

map.

map.

thyme.

staycation.

Until wolf-light I will count my sheep,

Adumbrated, uncomedic, as they are.

One is perdu, two, qualm, three

Is sprawl, four, too late,

Night is already a thirsty county in Texas,

Salt flat and unremitting

Blacktop dry as my mouth,

And your elastic vowels

-Averill Curdy