i am afloat on the skin of the watery destinies
the liquid realities mixing with my own skin
until i am the color of whatever happens
in the season of the snows, adrift in nakedness
i do not notice my own evaporation
until i am high in the notice of the moon
and the demon tries to tip the whole balance over
so distant gravity tries to rouse me from my perch
slipping from thought as if i had no weight
unloved by the hours that pass me each on to the next
every stranger is familiar, or i am grown old
though i know some fossil fires cruder
i wait as all the motion keeps vanishing
have i always known time’s next-door-neighbor?
now, the kind of change in the pocket of a dream
now, the traveler without place names
i know how i arrived here, alternatively, rambling
though i don’t remember this particular future
what i have seen could fill a mirror
the sentiment of myself in plastic wrap, disposable
one cold day to freeze my watery eye
if i have not seemed to be present, take note
i have eked out a positive sum to the seasons
for i have collected all the scraps of perception
that twilight mistook as unchanging
and i have become my own, very breath:
steady, with rhythm, the essence of life’s matter