WEBVTT

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I want to finish with two
very different kinds of poems,

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both recent.

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- First is called The Shuttles.

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- Remembering glitter
on the first river,

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- I begin to imagine the
chances against any fabric ever

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occurring.

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- Threads at last becoming
original torn cloth.

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- Night, numberless with lights,
flying apart in galaxies.

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- I reach out to imagine
becoming one anything, once.

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- Among the chances, in
the rare aging fabric

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happening, all the way
for the first time.

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