crutches

front porch surrounded in a cruciform daybreak.
still the fog fog fog in the belly of summer's sweat lodge

I'll strap myself 

into my rocket couch 

for another sub-orbital 

spin around my

brain's perimeter

and in a reprise sort of way the previous nocturn mentioned in
ecumenical elation...and continued on. pick yourself up by
the furs. pick yourself up by the way. pick yourself up another new.