the wind wants at its will, as it's

scornfully whorled--undoing the

cricks of facades.

an attentive hearer can be stung by

the lashing beads of rain rounding

still points.

gusty sheets of seventy miles an hour--

timed out, wrung out with a twist.

astonishing confessions that hold back

at the precise moment of truth--as if to

say: bear with me, as i bear with you.