The cruel April wind doesn’t howl.
It laughs at
his corrugated-cardboard hovel.
Dandelion-wine-stained walls groan
gloomy up against it,
as a cut-out flap flips to reveal
hums of empty space.
to what’s at rest. Here
the poorly grounded facts are:
the misplaced and misspelled
scrawls he so feebly scratched out.
dance of two exposed knees
can't be crucial.