American weather is under manageable stress
nowhere like boiled-down jazz that’s formally difficult.

Climate is America’s gothic partner along with outer space. Look what they gab about. White on the map over el Norte.. ashes of snow, augmented by radiation.

Three seasons are morally exigent, shivering in a synthetic silk-festooned service center (formerly a weigh station in the clouds), not coming back any time. There’s new weather either side of their sit-around for diarists and meteorologists who just want to talk.