Turner Valley Oil Field They trotted out his anticline, capstone crust punctured by a wedge-thrust to the town's makeover bonanza, where seismic pricks could plot secured flab, and flatter him under talk-show sunlight. Yet look at the after shot: Devonian shell-sweat is girdled by a deer-head buckle, his footwall has lead foot in a King Cab, and during apotheosis to carbon cloud his Nudie suit will blacken at dusk, sloughing sequins over our sweet, crude sleep. Elk Crossing Trapped in river's cage. Tantrum of endless present. Foam nooses my neck, bone boughs seeking rim. My eyes urge herd to heave off winter locks, burrowing in liquid cell's hunger. Don't yield to fetters: you'll tread lives of reflection ending with boulder mirrors. Prison edge, my lunges pry open a gap in last gasps.

Hinge-leap fores and backs into montane's gusty probation and a grey jay's applause. Styled under snow's welter, pine stumps, blade whiskers are charmed in brush rubble; these guards aloof to hooves shaking off annual sentences. Kootenay Group This outcrop chops logic: a blender of interbedded shale and silt smuggled in glacial meal is exhumed by clastic talking cures. Hairpinning rube-seams fist bump mudstone squatters chugging oh-two brews, while boho aspens snort coal to cook up a scree of showboating fancy-Dans. En route to a cirque's scoop, a lamp house stockpiles slag. Moss plots cement's nap, reclaiming dimpled vugs: sphagnum beards hum here.