Not ready to go

but the fuse has been lit; the

timer ticking down.

Cracked, chipped, and gnarled by

time, but still beautiful in 

its decrepitude 

My mind is empty 

today like the infinite 

space of a clean page 

 Confabulate life

from a half-remembered dream

or simply fake it 

Soon the parade will 

arrive with ballyhoo and 

bedlam spreading wide 

 There, the season of 

Mardi Gras has begun, but

here it's just damn cold 

Thoughts mirror the bleak

day of biting cold letting 

icy words slip out