sick

spiritsick
seeking undercloak
to drive the
sickness out

heron wing grey

with the water
undertree undersky
hush across glide
heron wing grey

everywhere shrine
nod to earth
raised hand sky
surrender to ancient

lost in time
i think you will
need to find me first
because i cannot
seem to find even
myself in the wilderness

boneless
i cascade
into an easy
chair waiting
to be infused
with easy
but twist
is all i
gain

leaden limbs
and heavy sigh
the bathroom fan
hums away

bowl washed
a candle snuffed
i, too, become night

enough to get by
poor in other ways
slumber now, slumber

assuage & quietus
slipping threads
unentangled & released
from this shell
this tainted vessel
leaving lean &
razor keen

i am already dead--
it is only a matter
of time before i
sing my last song
in the slipstream
in between