crawling blue mountains
accelerating
impending
until the tips of giants
tickle enough of the sky
to cave in on themselves
on me
my sorry skull
tumbled along like like a stray dog
at the end of the line
avelanche
deafening white
suspended
still
directionless
surrendered
then
sunlight
air
salvation
hope
next wave
crushed
again and again.
Hawaiians said it was a small day
which makes me feel
fucking tiny
for which I am glad.