L.L.D. – Day One
My beam could easily span over these buildings. Me, black over light, dipped 300 ft. or more into the blank curvaceous figures of a subliminal line and draw, and If I stand tall enough on my tippy-toes I can touch the needle; if I bend, my nose can touch that balcony; if I drop to my knees, I can sit on my heels and shift the airplane breeze over my chest, just leaning back. I can be a rabbit. If I put my hands together, crossed thumbs, hands flat, up straight, I can raise a phoenix.
Air over fingers and open, open out over pines into a tumbling breeze that can outrun life and Leer jets, blindfolded. A sweet wind that can press escape in time and lift the cumbersome weight of space; a wind that can overcome stumbles in a tussled yawn.