Call me to the mountains once more,
Oh sweet, murmuring gusts,
And remind me who I am.
Sweep up my laughing toes to the tops
Of these proud outcrops
Then give my breath to the dome
When after looking out, I see my city,
But not my home.
Bring forth the rich perfumes
of startling everything-ness from the valleys,
And after I have drunk the proud skirts
of these verdurous hills,
Let your sweet touch guide me up,
and pin my head to my scoping bed.
Then hush, let me be as I espy
My gentle, distant, giant lovers,
Dependably rising from the East,
with supernal gossiping
for my cognizance alone.
Let me imbibe their wisdom
until all my queries and qualms
slip from my eyes,
dissolving into secrets
and thanks beyond measure.
One last request, my swift-flowing friend,
Wipe these wet lessons from my face
And carry their essence to the edge
To Karman,
And meet the angel who waits without air
To carry my cosmic missives there
09/21/12
I wrote this for a callback for a devised play about the Challenger space shuttle.