weighted scales fallen from eyes that I do not own
other monsters come beneath and rise over them
we place napkins so lightly arising and weep
tea time, flowers, amenable, soothing

running to get a foothold, three steps before a leap
none will say goose goose gander to you or I
nobody wants games now in my rubble of storm
all is a heap of torn down things floating away

hold onto your hat, it's deep here, a gamble
there are footholds in a marsh inside my dream
pitons need sharpening, moon shines merciless
as we tumble into said ravine on one long string


lost, as begun
never to
rise