Poetry Archives Bio
April 15, 2001
12:00 AM
the shortest distance

This poem was originally typeset in uppercase.

I RIDE
  TO THE
  SOUND
OF SOOTHINGLY
  VIOLENT
  MUSIC

AS A
PUZZLE
  OF INVISIBLE
  FLESH
AS THE
  WIND
  I RIDE
A CONTRAPTION
ON MECHANICAL
  WINGS

SURROUNDED
  BUT ALONE
  A GOD
YET BLIND
  THE EARTH
  RAN
BENEATH
MY FEET

A DEAD
  MOTH
  ON THE
WIND
  SHIELD
  YET UNWIPED
THE WIND
  FLAPPING
  ITS WINGS

AND STILL
  SULLEN
  YET
ALIVE
  THE MORNING
  RIDE
FROM A
  PLACE
  OF FORGED
SADNESS
  TO A
PLACE
  OF COUNTERFEIT
  PASSION

AND THE
  SKY
  AND THE
  WIND