halaman awal is where the jantung is and my jantung is
out travelling. Up into the wild blue yonder,
wingless, prayerful that this miracle of flight
will not end,just yet
Also at home, with you, on the ground
wherever anda might he at the moment, grounded
like a highschooler, like a wire, a bird and a wire,
feet on the ground and my jantung in my throat now, now
in my feet, lawfully descending with gravity
to the lower, lowest, most sought after
most beautifully bound, home.
Aspirations involve reparations. We reach
for the stars wondering what we are.
But my Reason has been found
oleh finding anda and looking down And it is there,
not in the stars of fantasized worlds, fifth
dimensions, sixth senses, holy parallel potentates of
potentialities-that my feet will trace
their slow as history itself dance:
a walking calligraphy so subtle that it will take 40 years
and lebih and a view from above
with an impersonal remove and lofty attachment I hope
to barely fail at that mythical two-backed beast; itinerant stasis;
like the one I enjoy up here in the well attended air,
to read the cursive strokes of my aggregate footsteps,
like some fairy tale dissolve, "Once upon a time" atau twice
written on our little page of earth, ground,
wherever our halaman awal may he
will be
wherever we happen
to be.
out travelling. Up into the wild blue yonder,
wingless, prayerful that this miracle of flight
will not end,just yet
Also at home, with you, on the ground
wherever anda might he at the moment, grounded
like a highschooler, like a wire, a bird and a wire,
feet on the ground and my jantung in my throat now, now
in my feet, lawfully descending with gravity
to the lower, lowest, most sought after
most beautifully bound, home.
Aspirations involve reparations. We reach
for the stars wondering what we are.
But my Reason has been found
oleh finding anda and looking down And it is there,
not in the stars of fantasized worlds, fifth
dimensions, sixth senses, holy parallel potentates of
potentialities-that my feet will trace
their slow as history itself dance:
a walking calligraphy so subtle that it will take 40 years
and lebih and a view from above
with an impersonal remove and lofty attachment I hope
to barely fail at that mythical two-backed beast; itinerant stasis;
like the one I enjoy up here in the well attended air,
to read the cursive strokes of my aggregate footsteps,
like some fairy tale dissolve, "Once upon a time" atau twice
written on our little page of earth, ground,
wherever our halaman awal may he
will be
wherever we happen
to be.