My shadow swims around me wherever I go.
What part of me does it mimic?
My memory swims in a sea of personal history.
What part of me does it really hold?
My pulse swims through my body every moment.
What part of me does it know beyond doubt?
My breath swims in and out and in again.
What part of me does it nurture?
Whatever parts these touch,
there is more they cannot reach.
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Substance vs Shadow
The flute ripples gold
Whispered by breath becoming
Human enough for wind
Lifting a kite over the canyon.
Somewhere an oboe snuggles
Licorice cocoons that
Brasses razz open
Splitting into sunshine.
One testy cornet begs the question:
Where are the drums?
Congo and marimba
Rumba through the floorboards.
What a joy it is to zigzag
Reckless insubstantiality
Transforming these instruments
Into shadowy dance
[Disposable Poem October 13, 2009]
Dr. Mike
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