Doesn't help work get done. Thesis work I mean, but there is this, for what little it's worth:
Fog: A reply to Sandburg
The fog scrapes inward to tell me
of dry hills it caressed to dew
of lakes grown morbid and calm
with cold legs clenched tight at dawn.
The fog sloughs by and tells
of new skin it grows on snails
of a blanket made of welcome dull
cocooned on cocoons and wings.
The fog it passes on and on
me it asks me, where I am, and am
I there, and are there stars
in her thighs, son, are there suns?
But I cannot see for the fog.