listening to the Heart of the Sunrise in a field of radiant canola flowers 




even Vermeer's name glistens




my dead brother's apothegms keep bouncing off the walls 




dog-eared obituaries of old age




the inch worm when she's full grown




taking a night course on mass-extinction planning 




rainy night train crowded with philosophers




I'm on a Dirac diet of one word per hour




upgrading my inattention to transcendental occlusions




he was the kind of man who always came to a complete stop