Quiltbearing #1

Monday, November 23, 2009

I want

I want
to find the streets
the burial the ceremony
the gourd washed up on this shore
singing of home,

birds that crawl
orange and black, through return and relief
open sky and tired downdraft list the boat
so it can't find its bearings, its way
so its cargo slid to its other side

I want to find
the flight pattern that tells
the controller where he is
while I fly home

in santa monica there is a dune
bearded with grassy tufts
blood blasted raw in memory
of whales upended

but today i want to stand still
still still still still still still still still
on my doorstep, facing out
ready any way.

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