This is the end of The Alphabet, by Ron Silliman:
A gray sky is flat but a blue one extends forever
Suddenly a wave of cricket song
The constant weave of birds
Insect so small on the rim of my cap
The angle of my pen as it brushes this page
This is the end of The End of the Alphabet, by Claudia Rankine:
go away, night sky, did we come this far together?
I am cold. And in this next breath,
the same waking,
the same hauling of debris. I am
here in the skin of . . . otherwise) shoveling out, dryly.
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