What can the wave do
That the wind cannot,
A bird, a cloud, any moving thing?
How can the wind manipulate
The trees, the light?? That genius,
That graciousness is what I claim.
That head of hair survives
For twenty years. The spirit
Thrives on its own will to live.
The daylight, energetic, dazzling,
Deepens in my eyes. Now, as before,
I pity that bird whose wings
Are motionless. The sight and insight
Darken in the dream. I barely breathe
Above the breaking of the waves.
Gerard Malanga.
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