all these things desired

novels appear to me murky waters

muddling words distilled down to

a poetic reduction

to what end?

constant conversations in my head

will never reach the page

exhausted by marathon effort

having run on and on

until finally I choose a tool to

transfer the story to medium

they die

midair

too tired to take shape

broken into skeletons

cursed to rattle around my skull

for all time

and you, you get fragments

I offer you

these