I am feet on ground and air-staring,
stare-airing;
I wash and tumble and dry
before guano-flecked facade,
drenched winter water,
and sick-stain, damp.
Short of laughter - loose,
so leave me untethered,
ill of manner and dead-weathered.
Nausea paints no blue sky,
peace dusts my face with wind,
the autumn has shaken me
to my very core;
trees that cover pai...