ANYTHING ELSE

Landscape and logic tweaked
by longing, a lunging, I guess
you'd call it, into the nearly
unknown. The perhaps wafted-

away no-color of days whose
ends are frayed. Then watching
a better-known version of it
still circling the drain long

after the plug has been pulled.
A kind of almost incomplete
spookiness that gives meaning
to it (without meaning to,

of course), because there is, after
all, no clear evidence of anything else.