A day, a cloudy day, a breeze-loft day
the waspy jangles in my gut ignite
the supple thread, my ticket spun today.
O where? and why? I do not ask the light,
the wind, my hair, the shiftless clouds,
Alone one migrant flies aloft a-flight
sidelong, I drop and dare to wear no shroud
Instead a tail of silk to fly aright,
but if the clouds keep traveling to where
the sea between the land expands and then,
will it be that height is worth the fare?
or landfall marries me to all new there?
The travel, the nights aloft the sails ballooned
take me, I go, and with you, wind, am maroon'd.
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