The Grand Canyon
I like to watch sands
spun and spinning in my view
shey signify amendment on yesterday
i settle for a while
and in solitude peer on
‘Settling for reflections and silences’ some might say
of me
not i
i prefer reflection
reflection on the stones from which the windborne rubbed free
Everywhere, they all perk up at the telling of the same parts:
the tight turns: the “drops”
say, of that feeling, you know
when sheer facades fractured like faces
and lingered,
over
plunges already taken:
Sooner or later.
they were all transfigured
and they all remember, being
and broke up
fell down
tumbling
clutched with an abandonment so slight
they even slept in the rains
slid in them
and were driven to away, to “somewhere”;
down some course,
some “life”
(of course).
Slide on with the rains.
they recall the scrapes, the breaks
dripping and dropped they all separated
to take parts, apart, in many productions
As future converts and collects on the currency of life
one death lets reign so many more
in time
stages break:
more now
more fluid
now
i want the fluid
to ride and drive in the waves
my view to splash and bob while my sense insists to paddle
There are better hands out there than mine; they built this home
let me ride their whims and dips and dives
that is, for a few breaths
on regular intervals (you know)
determine me for a minute or two; i can see and I'm not naïve
but
there are some things i would rather not wield:
power,
power over
(for one)
i want a home within
to relax in the breeze and doze a while:
lose control and be eased by the ordering of my sweet chaotic dreams
the sleep will end
sometime
perhaps when the chill breeze stirs to my face the sands to which i surrendered
a collapse to which i must recover
(or so my senses say)
…but what am i to the sands?
I have a home out there;
the clouds won't forget
one day they'll break, pour renewal, and flush me out
down
down
home