… open seas.
By J. K. McDowell
August 2014
Do we make our own monsters or do they make us?
The claws and fangs, the mirrors and makeup.
We lose track of what is real and what is important.
I can’t help you – I don’t hide this broken wing.
I fell trying to save the world, I could not yet fly.
Now I just walk around town giving out feathers.
My cycles are off. I keep spelling circadian
As cicadian. No letter “r” and a big
Difference between the hours and the years.
Flailing? I am sure you can imagine that from
Some angle this motion might look productive.
You glance away to quiet the visions in your mind.
James, your destiny will always cross swords with who
You were. There are facts in your fiction and fiction in
Your facts. The duel always ends in someone’s death.
“Thank you for your interest in our expeditions…”
The last time you were away I dreamed the desert sky.
Now I see a barque, full sail, carving the open seas.
