this is a new document.
the sun is quartzite, with paeans running thru. billows of escarpments perform plush rods extending cumulus, and you would think: the sky is above Worcester this shining spring morn. and the people are abundant, with whims jetting thru cycles of concerned political gantry. a wired elegance promulgates a new election, tho the candidates are stunned. these words reflect that bastion. process makes document, on any morning. sentences flock together like geese or turkeys. a turtle strides at maximum speed along bikeway, a dinosaur as much as smoke. the contest fires up. someone plays hip hop or the next understood. together we make a city. call it Worcester, and imagine something better. this is how poems make their way.
