Nyquil Overdose

Illness can be a fortuitous change of consciousness.


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Wheezing, sneezing, shivering and nothing's new.
Nude goddesses fume, lift lips to flutes, freeze, fade.
It all spasms on and off outside the window pane.
My eyes now shut to dazzlements, ears off to song.
Grey kaleidoscopes of all things are closing down.
I yield the struggle to others--I leave echoes, light.
The flowergirls no longer purr in memory's pens.
Grand ambitions and Grails have rusted ungrasped.
Manuscripts, indecipherable, stacked, moldering.
Gushings, geldings, yesterday's galloping, gone.
What was read in stone, in star, in self was good.
It was what it was: Go! Recycle as story and dust.
The wintry draft is getting intimate and I surrender.