Recognition of Space


I am one
who is afraid
of flying.
When I am born,
it is of a legacy,
of a dream
wrought in the imagination
of the window waves.

I am One
Without Myself,
a pig in a blanket
of solitude;

A God
within a demi-
A man
on the water.


I unwrap
my pieces into a cloth
from which I dangle
into the night

like a child
escaping from

I am born
everyday that I die.

I must speak,
I must move.


I am a legacy,
of a legacy,
from the sea
and beyond
the sea.


But who will listen
to a dream?

Last time one of Them
came around,
we incorporated Him
into the System.

And so it’s not a matter
of listening any longer–
I will sing of trees,
and of blossoming
reaching up
to fuck the sky.


I am one
who is afraid of crying
loud enough so that
could ever listen.
When I die,
I feel squares of concrete
screaming in my bones.
I trip in a car,
one block after another,
until it takes me
to where I forgot
I wanted to go.

I am One
Within Myself,
a fish
in a school
of fish;
a sea
that can never make
an unclouded sound.

A rock
within the swaying
break of the earth.


I wrap
myself in sheets
in order to preserve
this order of the sun
that has issued forth
from the bellies
of the drums

of the dirt.

I die
every night
that I live.

I must sink,
I must


This peak is climbing me
up up and into the wind
seeping through the space,
tossing the duds on the line
to a smooth dreamy dance.

I feel such gravity
that I feel as one who flies.

The strict buildings
move into the clouds,
creation of man
and sky.

This earth and this sea
within me
makes me tremble in ecstasy–
or is it fear–
at the sight of the sunmoon
rising down
against the windows,

just as the darkness
forms into

Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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