august 01

i

let’s face it,
i’m sitting on the
edge of a grave
with my legs
dangling into the
dark.

ii

i’m crossing a
desert of drifting
dunes. no. these are
the mountains of the
moon. the stones here are
granular... it’s the polar
ice-cap, or are we
approaching the summit of
everest? it’s cold
here & hard to
breathe. i have to
go on.

to go on.

iii

my heart is crossing the
horizon.

iv

this time of year,
the sun is
descending.

i’ll always be chasing the
highest, finest
light.