Thursday, June 16, 2011
making camp
this happy life,
¶ 1:59 PM 
this best of life, is
held, propped, so
precariously, like tent
canvas on poles
happy, tenuous moments
between great sags,
and my furtive mind
rushing around underneath.
Pushing this leaning pole, and
ramming another further into soil,
and glancing with worry
at the darkening sky.
A weight of water too great -
the poles teetering and fall -
and the leaden membrane
pressing all down in suffocating
completeness
