Sam White

Innate Foray

Lonely continents, how far we've spun
from our million year kiss,

our million year shrug,
forever wishing back

the rotational penumbra unveiling
the latest grass, purple clouds,

carryalls overfull spilling,
spilling, everything spilling.

It's sunrise on tomorrowland.
Rub all advents from your eyes,

for we begin again, walking
now upright and far

from our leathery births,
a multitude of voyages;

islands spasm, volcanoes
sprinkle down boulders,

forests laugh up leaves, leaf cutter ants.
A dizzy wild. In one short day

the finch is swapped for an owl,
the owl swapped for a ghost.

I am one half your brain
warbles the ghost. O to live

in this silk, the shadow
always touching us,

moving us around, and how
we move within it,

believing the sea
above the sea above the sea.


© 2002 Electronic Poetry Review