before black flock fog.
the type that moves down orange stairwells.
forgiving the night of its healthy fear.
patience in stars on shoulders.
the wilderness, too, is benevolent.
with new perfect pride.
new rivers and new soap and new gold.
I join the pier with pop postage.
railroads and pure kisses.
I say this with famous fangs:
we will find something in tomorrow, today.