Dust Mote #13, Poems and Notes, Thursday, May 12, 2022 — These headaches — like a mysterious dust fog
that dazzles the eye and hypnotizes too — are beginning to press,
more than firmly,
on the back lower lobes
of my brain. The rusty Brillo pad disintegrates into dust in my hand. Dust is like the alchemist’s salt — that which…
