(a cento, for/after Jill Jones)
hours may not be to scale

as when there becomes

here & stars reach 
output’s end the stadium

birds equally bluffed

by meteorology could you
understand breath

as a casting of doubt

now the bottle’s hardly
night-deep a river city’s

water moon pretends

to purity where water’s
a pilgrimage the gods

look a lot like clouds

stranded without motive

Note: Includes some words and phrases from Jill Jones’s book Dark Bright Doors

(Wakefield Press, 2010).