The People of the Sun

Chicago, 2011

we are turning towards the sun

in the infinite
arena of space--
we sit,
nosebleed section,
squinting
for a glimpse of
eternity.

a seagull wafts past,
a formation of ducks
pass over head-
there is no HD like this.
rippling, magnetic
liquid,
pink and orange clouds
tickle this
round water belly
we call Michigan.

I am unreachable
among the translucent clouds which
beat
in flickering
whisps that
dissipate
into oblivion.

the wind sweeps 
an organic
mosaic of ivy
riding
the side of
this silo
at the end of the world.