Wherever the flag
Will be planted
I want to
Go there and be
Still, write until
The work I haven’t done is
Bested by time
Invested and what’s made is
Greeted by raves.
I want to
Paint until
The brush is softly frayed
Its point ever finer
As it drops hair by hair
A finer point like when
My own edge was
Sharpened from breaking
Possessed by waking
Roving cinema dreams.
I want to
Love myself ragged
Throwing my body into
The pyre of my other
Giving giving until
From giving I fall
Down dead spent.