Gary Robinson

The Brazen Species...

A plane sliding
through the solar waves
watch it pinch blue
and thin as an hour.
There the unreal course
reveals a complex divination
there a suite of dreams slaps through an
ensemble of unfluttered clouds, brazen as
cacti unconcerned with another intrusion.

Nature's stance in the teeth
of our altitude, the ascent
of the machine like a circus tumbler
slipped and caught
in too awkward a leap.

Things push back or ignore this scurrying.

One shoe paws a tan mountain around a sentry of ants,
dislodges the minute day
with casual destruction.
Or a winged insect drums my
forehead, tilts its black hurry
past the white interruption,
slurring and scorning a detour.

Standing in the inverted 'Y' of my body
I sense a hum of laughter, but see nothing
there is nothing here
only a chorus of motion
a jazz of flight.