For Air

There is a place in me for air     as part

of  me     of  a piece     with how I  live.

And I am in it making sense like a cart

we are each other’s horse before.        given.

loaded with flowers.     both

our breaths     a  fragrance     of  sound wave and beat.

word of  the heart.     The music goes

on to explain     it is moved by the feet

taking the place apart     into other places to see.

where is     the surface the air impresses upon

what forms bounce into shape and form

patterns of doing. the way they do that they be.

themselves     ourselves     scattered across the drumhead

shod with a vibration of  the unsaid.

geometries of  air     shod with a vibration

of  the unsaid     dance out their ordered sentences

to freedom     the felt articulated into action

a balletic leap     that seeing     trails resemblances

of  not knowing to knowing     of  silence

to song     of  being bound to flight.

A place in the air achieved     space—

not even aware the speaking might

be music.     Or that the place of  air in us

might be singing     the fragrance of  the flowers

already worded      in stone the airy cupolas

of  temples lifted off  into the idea of  showers

of  bubbled light       and the poem as the champagne

of  what the body has bottled in its strain.