it's sunrise again
and i've still no capacity for vital estimation practice
i'm passive reading for dead poet updates again for
posthumous notification
the first i heard
the first i knew
posthumous acquaintances
usually less acquainted
over time and yet otherwise
i'm retired in my own right
anchored to despair
i've resigned to low light
living where,
the assessment won't save me
it's late in the day i fear
my now honest engagement
in process
ostensible
slow
configured against me i'm
in precarity i'm
diaphonic-
alive and dead
creation and dread
a real thick head i'm
treatment resistant or
and afraid to know