Still tetherless, these days fold into each other,
And weightlessness - just another day? -
Conveys away the memory of where I held fast.
Sliding and spinning down valley folds,
Coming back upon myself, like the corkscrew held
For another bottle, with no plan in hand still.
Still untethered, these thoughts recede or approach,
Combine and divide - growing or swiping at the air.
This swelling is the Achilles' heel.
Folding my arms or holding my swollen ankle,
I'm waiting along the roadside for you,
Casually weighing a little time against a little place.
You will not come, and it won't rain.
There's just another smiling sun
And a crooked sunflower laughing like a clown.
Let me cry or tack onto tomorrow
A reminder of where I was born,
Where you rose somewhat like the moon.
I'll forget my foreign languages
And just sit under the Bodhi Tree
Or climb up a baobab and hang like a chimpanzee.
— Gabriel Fenteany, Novembber 22, 1996 & February 9, 2014
