From scarred trampoline of your words,
jumps, blemish-free, after cushioned falls.
Flight. You say “Beware, it’s not real,
won’t last long, you’ll drop addicted” — yes,
but now I’m friends with relief,
it will stay in fragments at least,
ease my limbs, sense and nonsense,
ladder-up legs and zigzag arms,
You say “vacuum” but I breathe
floating, fathoms deep.
Nothing of substance. Pastless,
weightless. Search and stretch
I head to secrets, mysteries,
estranged body to take to,
no planiverse, no maniverse,
no know-all, just naked verse,
tides inside to ponder,
bridging myself from dream to dream.
I will drop indeed
with all the known flushed from below.
Without cushions, thrilling aplomb,
falling on the already fallen.
In the charm of the distance
you wait for me to catch, to hold,
to keep back – but it’s late,
velvet touch would feel like being crushed
in trapped air.
I just ooops and hop again smiling,
fly unrestrained, escape out of reach.