Adrift in Poetry
“Imagine the interlocking uninsistent tunes of drifting things.”
Kay Ryan asks this of me.
So I imagine the dream that woke me before dawn with its vision of unbearable despair, my sweet pup fading to ash before my eyes.
I imagine waking from despair to tears and from tears to the sweet mound of dog curled under the covers — still breathing, still whole, still there.
I imagine the new moon, its power to turn tides and alter hearts.
I imagine deep sea creatures gliding through that which will supply them, surround them, until they too become the borderless unborn of the ocean that contains them.
I imagine inboxes, information feeds, marketing, downturns, interest rates, inflation.
I imagine being adrift in drift.
Learning to float in the sea with economies and megalomaniacs and explosions of expression.
I “imagine the interlocking uninsistent tunes of drifting things.”
Thank you, Kay.
