un-plowed

when i'm crazy but not broken
as the wendigo shrill wind
through walls & windows soft
porous sea-grated stone
skulk along smoked streets laid
hand by hand, i know
the route guided by silk-worm spindle
steams off the fault-rock
of rust-giving salt & sap
not realizing this is too far north
or how sane it will take me to leave,
but i can go on like this for some time
i think. walking still,
walking.