Straight Back to It.

My Arctic Sunrise is nigh.
To think
that all along


–I still had it.
It wasn't the bottle (yet)
But I pour mine out.
Clambering from my insular chamber
 my being is
embraced by the pale yellow light of the
northern sun.
Though I stand a mere shivering 132 lbs.,
I'm washed over with a certain solidity,
Fortitude.
"one must imagine Sisyphus happy, eh?"


I pandiculate,
my fingertips scraping the clouds as
my skin pulls
taut
over my ribcage