2.10.21

Navigation

 --
seek the depth of our landmass
across the wrong ocean

a turn inside out
as the wind blows its bluish skin to whitecaps

the circling blur above swoops down
to skim the crossing-- flight of ideas
home to roost, no dry land

(wrong side of the current, every twisted
mother tongue torn to shreds
by vagaries of history: yet another foul wind)
--