Inward Outward

Looking down

No shape

But

Looking ahead

The dove

Is held in my hands

As I teach it

To swim

Until it flies

Or tries

But breaks

Into the springs

Bolts and nuts

Of a machine

And falls

To the earth

A wreck.

Looking up

A man with

Rich skin

Faces away from me

To the sky

Orange

In blaze

And in the blaze

No shape

Yet I feel

A dove

Flying there.

Arms are raised

As if to bask

In the light

From a dove

That you can only feel

But not see

Sitting in a

Nothingness

Sitting in

A blaze

Praised by

The giant

With poor skin

As he faces

Away from me

As I try

But break

As I wait

To break

For real.