an acre for victory

a doleful heat sits

somewhere else—the crackling

intersections gathering

their own radiances—a dusky

heat, torpid amidst idleness—

a farmers' almanac shrinks

in its error—not a good year—

for corn—for tomatoes—for

the heavied nectarines—we want

them turgid and awaiting teeth

yet—the scythes remain idle

despite the promises of heat—

horizon—and endless acres

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note: work in progress
lastmod: 2025-08-12

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