today I stand on the horizon
beyond the vast, known spaces
my steps tracing a Moebius membrane
as the white sea pours through my heart
no there, no past, no unwanted memory
--all swept lovingly into the waves
seeds for waiting oysters
did you know that I could fly?
I didn't either until the wind caught my wings,
and the rock's weighty tomes fell ponderously away
like the unexpected removal of an atrophied, forgotten limb
the only thing between my life and some great height
it was the sound of the air rippling behind the gulls wing,
the inevitable pulsing call of invisibly present stars
--shining. always shining
and I eagerly ask
who is singing the song that calls the fruit to bud?
what whispered word ripens them? why must our ears be so ignorant?
does not silent nature speak with my mouth?
touch with my porous skin? cry these salty tears?
nature, like an atrophied, forgotten limb, has been removed
--or perhaps I am the limb of nature,
which, only newly awakened, cannot yet know its mother
for I usurp her ears, her skin, her tears,
assume them like a mask stretched taught over this shifting body
while I forget how my wings lift me up
though their rhythm ever flows on
which is why I am here, cradled by the rocks and wind
endless waves spread out before my dangling feet,
waiting to reach the horizon
