I awaken
To the phantom
That is who I have become
Each a fleeting moment
Seen in the context
Of another realm
And none too clearly
What they are
Where they are
Who they are
Preconceptions projected
Upon an object
Obscuring the features
Of the object
I’ve wondered, too
Is this the nature of travel
Or the nature of me
For what mindless thing
Of improbability
And random chance
Flutters and floats
Against ocean currents
Trailing feathery death
From gelatinous glass
Such splendid beauty and malice
In this ghost of the sea
Nudge
Nudge the icicle
Just a little…
A little harder
With all my subtle energy
Nudge
Creaking
Nudge
Crack
As darkness falls
Lofty boughs become
Gnarled trunk’s
Twisted branches, grasping
With her sails all torn
The great tall ship
Her tiller shorn
She broke her back
Upon the stone
