(by J.-P. Witkin)


   Fire in the Shillelagh

Troubling and squandered hours
found here · shahid
ellipses... Armstrong's footprints
crumble under the solar wind.

The pigeon stands its ground.
My tires barely crunch.

Lanes next narrow three to one
with only a confused
sign;
faded turquoise,
writing and steering badly.
Shade
flees.


K. S.