Drifting alone on Gardiner’s bay

Drifting alone on Gardiner’s bay,
No ship or neoprene raft between me and the crisp blue sea,
Just quantum gravity and millions of gallons of sea water
From as far away as Pretoria and Tierra Del Fuego, to make my fluid bed,
Hands behind my head, floating like a champagne cork,
My thoughts bubbling into the endless blue
Above and below me.
Salt on my lips, the sun making neon worms in the ripples.
My Cubistic world, my instinctual nihilism, my habitual obsessions,
Behind me and above me the swoosh/pause/swish/pause/swoosh
Of a fish hawk’s wings, the whimper of a dark wet mouse
Locked in powerful, unforgiving talons,
This life goes on around me, as I learn to float alone,
As I listen to my heart beat,
As I listen to my thoughts drop across the ocean like milkweed puffs,
Like water in water, sand upon sand,
With only love making me different than this ocean,
Than this warm sunlight, than this immeasurable, spinning world.

We had a predilection for flying

At least this moment, for at least this moment
We had a predilection for flying,
Sitting far back in seats 146b or 175c
Next to the window, the back of the plane
And if sometimes, passing over the marble steps of the palace
or the hidden interior of our own secrecy or sometimes after barely clipping our abyss
Of reluctant assimilation to reveal the mournful solitude of our dreaming
We would wake again drunk with the wind and everything that was flying with us
Over this dense black mirror of ocean everything that was supposed to be guarding us and
Our practiced stumbling our flight out of the tunnel our reeling into
The blinding light that we surged past now as if we were unaware again
As if we had just thrown ourselves up into the air and reached our hands out to fly