The winter breeze strikes my face.

All I see are the holes and breaks

on the Earth below me,

in between the lands,

where wheat sails in meadows and

fish stream through cold rushes.

There are smoke covered forests

with no canopies to catch us

and sand speckled mountains

which bones roll down freely.


I measure the jump with a nickel and my thumb.

The clouds look so comforting,

but through them,

I fall.


I pin my legs together,

as if with a needle and a thread.

I close my eyes and savor it—

it’s a free fall in the end.