December 10, 2012
This is the no dream land:
calculating the flight pattern of swallows’ wings,
the weaving of breath in the down flow of sleep.
Measuring the bend of flight feathers; graphing
the miracle, the degree to which wind burns
the stirring heart and static mind.
This is the end of dreams:
interpreting the airfoil by the feather’s whisper,
the mapping of paths in the sky for the arrow.
Measuring the angle thus determined; gauging
the ratio by which the space between heartbeats
multiplies and takes over.
Posted by delire at December 10, 2012 05:11 PM