ㅁ Two days ago, there was snow. A freakishly dry and feverish wind thrust hard from the west. Early spring blossoms fled torn from their hospitable branches, disconsolate. Young men strode uncoated, with wild hair flailing like cut tentacles. And garish bits of paper breathlessly licked at the sides of insentient buses. Four hours later, there was a warm drizzle falling.
– a free form poem.
