(A little rough draft of a poem, a seedling) Ashblown all day yesterday On the edge of Death Valley Sinuses crusted to oblivion My hat couldn't keep it all out Ashblown ashblown We couldn't have seen the wind Mentally ashblown and low energy Ashblown again when dry stagnant Unable to spit-scream words (Why was I so much better when I was little) (Why couldn't I write for eight months) Ashblown ashblown ashblown Overwhelm too much touch But I can scream again at least Ash in my throat again The coarseness tastes sweet
