By any measure, it was endless
+++++++winter. Emulsions with
Then circled the lake like
This is it. This April will be
Inadequate sensitivity to green. I rose
early, erased for an hour
+++++++Silk-brush and ax
I’d like to think I’m a different person
+++++++latent image fading

around the edges and ears
+++++++Overall a tighter face
now. Is it so hard for you to understand
From the drop-down menu
In a cluster of eight poems, I selected
sleep, but could not
+++++++I decided to change everything
Composed entirely of stills
+++++++or fade into the trees

but could not
+++++++remember the dream
save for one brief shot
of a woman opening her eyes
Ari, pick up. I’m a different person
In a perfect world, this would be
+++++++April, or an associated concept
Green to the touch
+++++++several feet away