I jump from a skyscaper into the ocean
dive down into the deep blue sea
where the fish are colorful and lively
and everything is quiet and serene
gentle rhythm of wavy drifting
as the anemonies and other things dance
and ripples on the floor of the ocean
like small imitations of the waves above.
swimming with the whales they are
so giant and strong and graceful
lazy lolling and calling in their eerie songs
moving here and there maybe going somewhere
maybe just moving around and now and then
back to the surface for some
air and back down down deep
where pressure builds and light gets thin
then back up again sometimes leaping
up through the surface almost completely
out of the water like flying for
a second or two before
diving back in and eating more plankton . . .
big whales so graceful like ballerinas
in smooth slow motion moving faster
than you can imagine or dream.
We lay on the ground and stretch our arms wide
and pretend we are airplanes––
someday we’ll fly away
up up into the happiness clouds
up where it’s fluffy and funny and free
with lots of oxygen and plenty of room
and hapiness for miles
everywhere you look
we will barely remember where we came from
or remember as much as we want
but only with amusement and pleasure and
gratitude and it will look like
a landscape tapestry where every
piece every thread every dot was
perfect and exactly where
it was meant to be
and we will fly to the stars
and swirl with the galaxies
and dance the cosmic dance
of love only love
restless day break of tension memories.
what does it mean to know what to do?
what does it mean to want to be alive?
what does it mean to consent to being alive?
if only there could be true understanding.
then forgiveness and peace would be easy.
and harmony and co-operation would follow.
and that should be what we learn in school.
hippos shuffle their midnight bodies
through the stars of questions.
they are not in the past or future.
but it feels like past and future
is all there is.
many fires by the water lined along the shore
camping sounds and stories and songs
ancient rhythm of the waves––
when the tide rolls in the fires will wash away.
swans drifing on the pond
water so still like a mirror every swan
looks like two swans one right side up
and the other upside down so many swans
falling to the ground now and then a meteor
or piece of space ice caught by earth
bringing some small change to the planet––
space so large we can’t imagine our place.
What could he carve out of words
that would make any sense of it now.
When Icarus fell, and walked, broken,
back to the village–what
could he say.
The villagers were afraid of him,
couldn’t believe him,
How could he describe flying
up towards the sun,
his wings melting,
he’d forgotten all warnings,
he couldn’t stop,
until he was
How could he explain how it feels here,
what pictures does he have,
except the white hot flower in the sky
you know how the horse race goes in circles don’t ya?
but there’s always one that gets there first
and one that gets there last
and which is which
that’s real hard to tell sometimes
because like a million years from now
it might look different
if it’s all the same moment