I topple to rise up then I tower to fall.
I’ve an upstart yen and an urge to surrender.
At whose bidding do I cross and re-cross the hall?
"I push backwards…I go forwards." —Larry Eigner.
"Nothing is true that isn't paradoxical."
Kathy Altman says it. I hear waves in my gyre.
We are standing bubbles of wind, water and sand.
Since the floor is dancing, it’s the perfect partner.
Head on the ground, feet researching the air firsthand,
what's down pushes up my fire, bruises my apple.
"In a field / I am the absence / of field." —Mark Strand.
My abstruse motions read nakedly on my face.
What I wear becomes my name—call me "Blue Shirt Man."
Maybe my words are thick, and maybe rephrase.
We're called by sounds, spirits, ourselves, and each other,
and in peripatetic growth, we find a place.
Though prone to paroxysms, hail Us, full of grace.