Late Notes on Sadness & Clouds
To the hawk, the sound is loud.
Like the engine of a giant aircraft.
The data is subject to revision.
Somethings are true, even if they say they are not.
There is a paper trail all the way to the trading room floor.
Many votes are not counted for this reason.
Later in the season, perhaps, a depression offshore brings rain, hints of it.
Given this, the drought is of no real surprise.
Given that I used to live on a canal, the dry feeling is dry.
It is also littered with guns and debris and anger.
Trembled together with clouds.
Before I belong to the west again.