Here

here
on the glassy brink,
the ambivalent dusk
emptying the pockets
of my mouldering soul,
on an oblique plane,
the senseless shatter,
the unseemly splatter,
of a tightly bottled past;

here
as the low light gargles
in the mindless river,
submitting to the water,
the hollow core
keeps me afloat,
the weightlessness ringing
like a decelerated symphony
inside my darkening ears;

here
when the universe wakes
in the softness of night,
abstractions peel away
one by one,  from the penitent sky,
just this one rhythm
of an unchained vacuum,
swimming on its back
into its chrysalis;

here
a lifetime still strewn
on the sun washed bank,
I salvage the pieces,
without voices,
without eyes,
pockets weighed down
with soft-edged anonymity,
unsettled droplets
stretching down naked ankles
into the waiting grave of the earth.