our world
moils
in a mad whirl
there's no one
to save us
from this raging funnel
snake-like passions
coil around our
hissing bodies
our past spirals downward
no one heeds
the words of mute pilots
the fish are deaf
time drains into frogspawn
the spirit yanks on
its lifeline
the present gives
divers the bends
we head
toward the pit(h)
of all mercies
torn into stanzas