Vol 5, Num 14 :: 2006.07.14 — 2006.07.28
lambert international
a thousand subjects out of context
sit in these padded chairs
dreaming of verbs
to be and do
a thousand islands float
detached from mainlands
forming these strange archipelagos
these strange bays and headlands
soon i too will float
severed
trailing a muddy wake
streaming back
diffusing with the distance
into clear blue
soon i too
ripped from my context
will struggle just to be
bleeding my dependencies
nocturne in limbo (30,000 feet)
this strange stillness soothes
the unending muted roar of engines
envelopes and subdues me
like the roaring of a monsoon on a tin roof
remembered in warm sleep
this stillness seeps
through this inch thick oval of glass
from the moon filled atmosphere beyond
that holds separate two seas of black
and i hang in between and ache for each
above
the stars for which no earthly metaphor will do
burn their coldness into me
and something
some longing for eternity
quivers and answers
deep unto deep
below
a cozier vastness beckons me
the desert blackness exhales middle-eastern heat
and in the galaxies of light
that island its entirety
lovers softly sleep
ensconced each in each
islamabad international
i stand and breathe
my last few gulps of air duty-free
shuffling up the aisle
of this airlock between atmospheres
soon i will be complete
torn into a duality
that appears unseamed in separate hemispheres
that tears each time they meet
at the touching of my sleeping eastern flesh with east
i walk from the door
and then I am me
in ways that i have not been for years
as thick warm eastern air enfolds me
and fills my lungs
displacing stale indifference
and leaves me coughing sputtering
amidst these warm embraces
invading my protesting western space
amidst these cluttered streets
breaking life into me
more honest and complete
it may take some time to breathe
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