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Breaching
i seem to be an island
rising from expansive water
at my speed of 1 breath per hour i exhale
as the water that wanted stillness rivulets down my back
with doors opening to release diverse ideas
like a room of 200 all saving their best utterance
for a sudden symphonic bouquet
less patient than the roses trying to orderly march across the heat and angle
that may be new land in several generations
if radio waves could fertilize, as if satellite phone calls taking an erroneous carom
would seed a vocabulary, leave a myth lying stone-like til an opportune entry point
a dream that's come so often i can change the camera angle for hidden details, subplots
like 2nd & 3rd basements or stubborn thermals several fathoms deep
fish reeling from cold claws of enriched oxygen
giddy with breath, splitting like footballs of clay so everyone can receive or improve
as mudball becomes cup or colander to map the stars inside the boiling cauldron
dimpling this young mountain im surfing the projected rise
as something will release when everest reaches its peak of growth
as if sea level has always been the same
depending how many people are in this calderic tub
years the rain cant escape, years no rain gets to visit
as the wind is too fickle a freeway for commerce to trust
mysterious passengers with visions instead of visas, no traceable identity
as it would take a book to record how light reflects so many photons
with free samples and encryptions, like gears that lose a tooth every five years
the tension sliding into open space
i can only see a foot in front of me which is how fast i go in a year
with distortionary horizons knowing for every two colors
theres a third right between, a ladder rainbow like a spine between stars
stacked with vertebra and discs seething stellar speculation, translucent bone,
skin studded with history i scratch with determination like a chicken without brakes
on land slick with protection from all vectors of time
evaporating inside my genes the germs of fiestas
when all we've cinched back to blossom like a community
exhaling persistent hunger to send speckled messages to the eye in the sky
blinking weather formations bulging our atmospheric fence
like a space whale come to call overflowing with obstacles
and investments the clouds have kept alive with their liquid storytelling--
if you could read each second of rainfall in fresh over-patient soil
indented with stored heat we have no idea how to harness or record
like giant pads trying to turbine tidal flow
tracing a wave from the river mouth
til its made too many decisions to have complete memory
then begins its return, slowly completing sentences
building the next scene the ocean is eager for
Not Now
by the time ive used up the language im too old for another
walking over the edge
some necessary bang
we all get run over by an 8 cylinder appointment
that flows like a feather
falling into a lively two step
our hands pressed like unbaked cookies
or a hand-sized cloud unable to cohere with so much sunshine between us
wants to pump along a boulevard
each silent moment not ripe enough to crack
the kilning is so delicate--
the earth cant hold still long enough
peppered with indigestion
like a yeast that keeps to itself
rippling like almost pearls, like whats left from a question kept hanging overnight
til town has closed behind us
as the sun sets in a field of unwashed handkerchiefs
pulling through bird darts, gnat solids
not that my shirt rejects me
but a basic disagreement with my chest defining texture & geometry
how fashion would change if we walked like worms
scanning the street paved with remembrance
stubbed toe flat tire puddle murky as an egg
something suppler than nylon to represent us
when we try to imitate the wind
as traffic imitates heartbeats
when you had to pay for the blood circulating through you
or certain organs would get woozy with ignorance
new subscribers worried about the knees vulnerability
the express trains from ankle to thigh
i cant find the on-ramp to get above my chest
only in the rivulets that rebound or restore hours off the clock
26 hour days
parading us to wake on a vowel, instantly from sleep into a confident baritone
as the rooster keeps inhaling
as ½ a percent of night stays moist between my fingers
waiting without weight, accumulating without storage
wandering for decades along my skin to find the fold i share with another me
pinched and pulled through an opening in the sky skin
im afraid my body will corrode through
as a cookie cutter on a butcher block will wake when it kisses the floor
rising full in a flys stomach
goes through the screen to a rosary of adventure
whether the hand or the bead sprouts first
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