FOG

It is admirable when it arrives

in the evening, it obstacles the sunset.

We should challenge what’s gone before.

The stories of heroes should almost end

several times before they end.

From here, it just pillows the city.
What kind of fight does the city put up?

Is a ground lease or a strapped-on time bomb worse?

Blank space left a second

corrects “time bomb” to “tomb.”

What will be here when you’re gone,

is what the city says to you.

It doesn’t say anything to the fog.

---

FOG

It actually wanted to give you back to yourself.

I don’t think it possessed one ounce of progress—

we saw ourselves in the same places

when it dispersed. The city took its usual

shape, buildings implying the streets
that gave them findable
addresses, places to deliver postal mail,
boxes in which letters could be dropped
through slots and sorted into people.

We could even see
how to get there again.
Rituals began in moderation.
Midmorning traffic like blood in a vein.