Upon Kingfisher Wings - Letter 1 From Minimus Cast Out Into Space Praying Net Or Nest Catches
.
'The kingfishers! who cares for their feathers now? ' - Charles Olson
1
I, Minimus, launch forth regardless.
I have right to dare my feeble casting
forth, and off, of fetters, the jellies of
sin, and sally, well, if not sally, to jostle
the crowd in the bus station to purchase
my escape to spacious...what? Space,
I guess, to dream outside of who I am or
of what I have become and can see in-
ex-or-ably, ably, I hope, written in stars
or just desserts, just well-dressed guesses
derived from stormy Herald's blurting,
O winking paradisio, distant still,
'To become men and not destroyers of the world'**
I take my Pound with, old cantor,
no longer cantering but for us both
I now swagger, not to stake a grand
claim in turning the race, the species
other than to what it always was, ever
will be, grandiose, verbose, polyglottal
babblers rebutting halitose Death,
how big is the universe,
how we are all so small
sings it well,
'The ant's a centaur in his own dragon world.'
2
I live in presumptions of other life
that I will eventually live or be living
aware that I live presently as if this
being-lived life now is provisional,
that I shall one day be traveling or
well-traveled, living in some other land,
culture, having planted Odysseus's
oar there, fluent in tongue and lovers
of said land or if now said then perhaps
I may sing and say, bring new ships
into the leaner bay loaded with exotica
to otherwise, o land-locked, Reason,
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poem by Warren Falcon
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