Wisps

                 WISPS

there is a shadow rising from the

      ash pit in my heart

a steamy dreamy indefinable fog thing

      stretching far broader than its confines

       in memory

         rising higher

          sinking deeper

         than delusionary maps of dim remembrance

    a slow whirling mass of abandoned destiny

    of dreams and loves and unthought thoughts

left to their own unprophesied chemical reactions

rising

and writhing

jolted alive and into vague reality

when my mind was on other things.

                                        sept 1993 ketchum

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