Two PoemsA Perilous Initiation to Flight I am an occasional sport among the sometimes, a natural curiosity: bedeviled, undeserving, temporarily stalled and shattered to ruin; a terminal morraine, a blue band of ice, paused to land briefly here and there. In Nearly Simultaneous Thrusts I am reflected; a science in swadling clothes. Less and less an artificial birth, creeping and sliding, my rate scarcely that: Icelandic, ultracold, frozen to bedrock. I am a wind-up doll, licking and rocking, weakened, repartitioned; a circle of sky, the mouth of the moulin, divided in two like a pair of trousers. Utterly out of place, emerging onto a plateau less glamorous but stretching to the horizon: my basal sliding, impassive; the speed of my creep; my ice-house, my exaggerated grandeur; my eloquence; my ache.  |
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