disfunctional title by Rob Budde

growth by measurement, props
of entitlement improving on the last
quarter and what it might sink

vehicles tell us where to go
in the long run

skulls with clacking teeth, the whole
visual effect slouches across Central Street

the wrong alarms went off
and the volunteers never did make it

a better poet would miss this—
unpanicked lines more mellifluous

through us, fully enabled
Nechako water moves us

the making of the humans
would account for nothing
and find everyone