riddle for the invisible fiddler crab
you see me crashing against
do you wonder what is sand and where
listening to the waves, i wonder myself
in my own eyes i have forgotten
hypnotized with horizons
gray-blue in the sun
black-blue sometimes with stars
are you pelican or crab?
jellyfish or manta ray?
turtle or human?
woman and man?
a distant shore?
I can swim, yet burn, and feel buried.
I cannot fly.
this riddle is my name for now.
May 27, ©1991
Reflections on "Johanna D'Arc de Mongolia," Driving from the Movie
floating along the four-lane late
night and homeward, music and monotony in my skull
mongolian nomads raced long horses as grasses grew back before them
brilliant-hued silks, bursting through the wet outer subway walls
shattering with laughter and wind and sun, cheers and whistling
amazing me into sudden movement while driving
everything is slow as Earth to sand blows quickly into deserts
sand rushing into my eyes from their hooves and speeding
scrubbing me of sight to fill my head like an urn
the nomads cross over me now on their good horses
the princess leads the way and they are shimmering silken bodies
I am their desert, near the train, where the Spirit Tree stands
May 17, ©1991