“With My Senses in Ruins” and “Scavenge and Transform,” at Plume.
Here’s a recipe for seeing: sleep
and feeling as a long-expected season feels
the day the sky entrusts its new campaign
of sails and sheets. Where in time do figures,
half-imagined, blend themselves with lawns
as standards blend with all exceptions?
Always the same, or same-ish, bank of low
suggestive clouds . . .