Spotting billowed vessels
White on blue,
Distressed and prostrate,
The sheets contain my disease,
An angled horizon impaling me
As God knows what part of me drowns,
Submerging ashes in a wasted waste
Ringed with ghostly groans and frowns.

Wide-eyed pangs, a dusk smothered whim
Treads in bounds the sheer to our abyss.
A sullen tot in harness
Shrieks romance to my fevered plot
As on leaden marbles we freeze
And panic tears open a horror reel
Flickering through the twilight;
In burning fetters the slip and keel.

Shoreline and malaise,
A seeming antidote and reversal,
Yet canny convalescents catch
These bodies relate one element
Carrying broad potential
Ready always to initiate
If only something would conceive it
And will it to germinate.