to     
capsize,                         swept
                                                   across the
                                                             dark stone,
       the

         thick moss             of
                                                                                the
     
past,                                teetering
                  decades
                                                         overcast

            with
                                                                  the cold

                            country
                                       of
                               over-
                                        extending,

writing about that
     white wall                                of
                             dying,
                                                                      your life
                                 unspooling—

      a    pulled        thread from the tangle                of
              time, 
                                  a
                      heap of                               memories.  

~  An erasure of Rebecca Solnit’s essays, The Faraway Nearby, pg. 143-4