Thursday, January 24, 2013

The albatross sailing on wind

The albatross sailing on wind
does it think to feel
the weight below, the endless space
it hides under the span of
its wings?

Or does it embrace
the empty only because
it looks ahead, sailing
on wind, open-armed,

Gliding canopy of feather
ruffling starless ocean eyes,
hanging on, turning

Into the silence deafened
by wind, by wind, by wind.

Monday, January 07, 2013

at home in the field

Stranded on a horizon
He is the field. Without
ever asking, no longer
hoping to achieve.

What was once careful
is now only expanse;
what moved, still.
Stranded, as a horizon.

He will become nothing
that the field is not.
As if it was never meant
to end:

All demarcations
are the sum of his doubts.

Thursday, January 03, 2013

song of the day (once more)

Nick Cave and Warren Ellis - Falling

(the piano darts, like a horse's soft hoofclaps on dewy grass. like early dawn still hanging among horizons. obscured by mist.

once more a sense of purpose. movement on the grass. to go forward.

the air feels cold, moist.

when the violin sets in. a stringing wind that cuts through clothes and bones. it's not there to unsettle, it's not there to support. it's only there, never to mourn.

and the falling, not of the day, or the moment, but the music, the hours. the lines all downward, crisscrossing, intersecting, all toward the grass, down like lost leaves.

never the rhythm is abandoned, never the movement stopped. the hoofclaps resume. the grass allows.

what is that purpose, so early in the morning.)