…it’s the phase of decay.
 

Camped out at the crevice edge of myself

among fearscape shadows

I pound stone into cold, statuesque forms

while the manifest comforts like a ghost that never cared.
 
 

There’s inspiration frozen in an iced-blue coma,

trapped like an animal.
 

Sun diffuses like concentration.

I think I’ll sleep today.
 

Nothing to do.

No one to see.

I wait for the garbage truck.
 

Need pricks like needles

protuding inside out.

Irritates like a single grain of sand 

lodged in the sole of my shoe.
 

If I pay attention, though,

it can sound like a whisper, calling...
 

So I round up energy like horses and listen more...
 

And I become a rider on a power 

that carries me away

from the ancient dream of this drowning self…