a blue draft
has entered my room,
i slept with socks to keep
from running through the sheets.
the whirls of the wind
wound, and i could not see.
it asked if i believed in a ghost,
i suppose some things are possible
_
this crisp ghost of thin
skin has come from canals
I've never known.
challenges, triumphs, warmth.
it is what has been sought.
time has run out, still working
still tinkering.
you don't have to enter the sea on your
own with the sea legs you've won.
stay in these sheets with the
socks on your toes,
i can't stand in this insight alone
sirens of 6:30: the blinds
of my mind wiggle open
to see that the insight is
just a breath of fresh air.
_lowt
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