the newspaper is lifted by the passing wind
and emits a tiny flutter
a powerless front page
with no desire to be read
is forced into importance
by the wind
who can't reach the funny pages
without eyes
i am here
by what power am i here
it says
or it is written by the wind
with every breath
head past the wife the man the little one
the brother and sister sleeping the
nightwatchman sleeping the town crier sleeping
go to the fields the woods the clearing
the mountain with the fire tongue the iceberg
head past the country doctor on a routine assignment
the landscapers the forest ranger and the crackling bell tower the rural minimalist painting extinct sunsets at the benefit of readily tired benefactors
the artisans the innkeeper's gluttonous glare
the drunken people sleeping head past the fairy queen dressed as a snail the faun sucking on a dry pipe the rat and the squirrel king fighting arduously over a frozen pea the tempest owl beckoning kisses with it's rotten beak
go to the last ocean the bottomless pond
the empty car park at the end of the land
go to the real wilderness there is no hunger
all is californian at heart
the waves
racing
and breaking
into white waters on a blank page
must come from another pacific
with entirely different
unaffected cruise ships
careening
into the blank horizons
of forgotten maps
the sea is always satisified
words
trickling down
it's gaping interior
like plancton
drifting into a sunless abyss
only to be swallowed
by a giant whale
unseen
