Taking over dawning,
kicking around down in the sand ―
sighting a grey-barn stand among summers ruins
Stepping up to the ledge of a still asleep stone bridge
when a grey wagtail flee away with a quenched cry
almost unheard in our consent of silent wind-throws
(It hurts to be so greatly charged with suspicion.)
It cuts hard into my insight.
Sad to say, I am an all too easily harmed, an turned inside irascible
that been lured to train myself balanced, to hurt myself galled,
be a vulnerable and at the same time avoid hardest pain
(Being all wounds intact and lulling my fairest dream again)
Have ragged myself to come down to the others alikeness;
to obstinately be on exception as an unknown curiosity
But… One thing will lead to the last ― In to an unsolvable
(Remained left in a late set autumn, in a capricious ― In a timeless)
Finally my anguish cuts me done.
It is late.
Care not to carve in overripe wood more now.