Time so taunting that

crawls at dawn but is breakneck 

by the evening's end 

The rocks are bare and 

brown missing the lake water 

that gave them cover 

Bullets bitten so hard

all you taste is metal and blood 

still the pain lingers 

The crystal-blue sky 

belies the coming storm that

carries mayhem with it 

The crane flies from the 

island, spooked by a gang of

rowdy, rough seagulls 

Sickness slips into

the body politic and

slowly eats away 

 Blank canvases can

offer a new world or a 

ceaseless fearful void