Thursday, August 12, 2010

Up, as a lighthouse

Embrace my mother: the last speaker of womb
Pinpoint her center before she shifts That calm eye lurks
off coast, where gusts took home out sea

Beside the waves, I was right
in my silence: a lighthouse with blues for eyes
I looked out, at that first sea-- sea
she never stopped reaching, salt
she wanted, always more: That thirst

Inside, I grew a spiral, a spine
with stairs to the top, where
through eyes I spoke not
in code, but swept the white tips
The Moon never stopped
so I never could, even make a pile
of all those chops

So I tried the ocean into hypnosis
With the pendulum of my light-flick,
tailing very sleepy from left to right,
I knew the trance of comets: solace
taught me well, though ocean
does as she wills

Stout in sand, my one legg-ed chute—
nearly rocket, I kept my eyes,
still turned out

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