the sun burns life vests and corneas

like the sun

that doesn’t drown

in the dead blue sky

i disappear in

myself

through forgetful age

and the business of busyness

where i miss the shower

and move to sweat

hoping to find something

i lost somewhere

i cannot recall

but always am reminded of

in the morning sludge

of light

that brings back

the baked smell

of cut hillsides

and overfilled gutters

that makes me wash myself

without ever being clean

in spurts longer than i

have time for

for i was born too early

to be in bed this late

and there are things to do

for the day is just beginning

even as the sun sets

on itself

*

i want

to write

something well

enough to will

others to

exist by

it

or if not

to ask

how did they exist

before

with all the noise

and disturbance

of a life listless

and lost –

but this will not happen

for i only wish and want

instead of will