a mouthful of feathers.

nothing substantial, just bruised knees
and torn back muscles. I have fences to
mend (both literally and figuratively).
weeds to cut and bag. structures to map
out. paint to sling and dirt to sweep.
holes to dig. concrete to shape. lumber
to cut and sand and seal. a private affair.
I seem to crawl around these tasks slowly.
but I want something more substantial than
a mouthful of feathers...work done well so
that I can finally sleep.

What does one do with the unconscious?

I wish I could cough up this illness and be new again...
but today is just another exercise in interior degradation.