curling ARound the current

the bent flame of the animal locks its grip on man with
unwavering eyes, no one understands the current that is
passing between, no one; eat them, make a tree bend hard
and snap, feed them, wash your face, make a little gesture
so she will come, the room i am in is not me, it's not at all
like me to be in here! I should be in trees, swimming around
naked, Laughing and making the animal noises. I was
spinning as a child, and always snapping twigs and
springing up. I remember getting quiet and listening
to the continuous purr. the animal is waiting somewhere
outside, I sleep, human dreams and memories, a
thousand fish crossing great open tracts of sea; the old
hull of a ship, corroded, and worn through by the brine;
a woman, all tangled in seaweed; the notebook and
the open inkwell, a library in the forest; she sat calmly
in the surf, taking her time with each piece, like music
she had to write, and i spoke but without a common
language, so i remembered my breath, and the small
things, the snail and the crab, his serrated edges.
today, all I need is something fluid, some movement,
depth, horizon, and the birds, that is all.