The Purpose of Seasons


Five years feel like one

the purpose of seasons

sharpens like edges


of a tanker when

September fog burns

off the ship channel


Winter’s sterile needles

inject opiate charms a


subterranean clicking

builds to insectile


swarming piercing

skin releasing

dragonflies into the

bleached stadium


of summer then lights

flicker and fail one


at a time and the project

disintegrates like dry


leaves cracking underfoot


The rotation jangles

in the blood stretching


perception adding years