I become always—
Agitate, stop, fix—
Airwaves, pigments,
Equations, lyrical,
Epic, and not that dramatic. 
Upon film, paper, and files,
I just keep realizing visions,
Making art, artifacts, articles,
Then taking them off,
Like Band-Aids,
Leaves, and fruit.
And I am all of these things,
And none, nothing at all—
just the lonely mind
And the equipment
I become at one.

I became a tree once
And I grew slowly
Until fertilizers—
I was frenetic and fecund,
But too fast.  Grow slowly,
Such that roots dive,
Branches thicken,
And the wind is no enemy.
Everything in moderation
Is good for plants too. 

There’s always the shock though,
Or a coup de soleil,
And I can stand the heat,
Become it as fire and bird.

I fly through the wind
Whispering on others’ tongues.
I nest and I return. 
I am always and forever
In a state of flow
Between stasis frozen
And the abysmal flux—
A light quivering amidst darkness
And, when necessary, a shadow darker.