Incomplete
Dah Helmer
I hear spells casting from clouds
hammering hail
like bones splitting from road kill
A scrambling cadence on the roof
Strange sci-fi sky, almost mythical
The more complete it becomes
the more alien I become
Very little satisfies me
74
From this distance the brown sun
is a smudged letter
slipping through hands
void of love lines
The bumbling wind, a mail carrier
spinning from box to box,
a chattering ice storm
Today is suitable for a burial
and I must say
as long as I have my body
I’m good
as long as my frequency radiates
and I’m not too pale, or somebody
is not trying to chill me
with formaldehyde
or my gaze is not frozen
to the light
at the tunnel’s end
or …