the news that's fit to print

Injuring time
               half-cooked
                            by the sun
  bathing in smoke
                 lovin sickly vibes
angling day toward home

Nothing's fit
          for reasonable consumption

                      my eye-scar bloom
                gets more like lead
                        all the time

Mongrel humor
             
                  and expressive
                  facial suggestions

besiege my mood's variety

no qualms with openness
                  with the unlocked
                           or unscrupulous

spirits trespassing on my
                         heart's piazza

but across projected meadow
goes my hopes for
              overtime union