From the Fishouse

Lucky I draw my breath from everywhere.
I draw it, draw upon it, give it back.
The wind calls and I love it. Meet me there.

Breath glows and glories through me as I bear
these words on wind. I know. I have the knack.
Lucky I draw my breath from everywhere.

The words fragment. Their threads break. Textures tear.
Their prints shine white on white or black on black.
The wind calls and I love it. Meet me there.

These signs convert to sighs that vent on air
like smoke and steam, or the washed rainbow’s track.
Lucky I draw my breath from everywhere.

Death knows I know. With each breath I’m aware
he can’t be stopped. Despite his sure attack
the wind calls and I love it. Meet me there.

Across a bridge far finer than a hair
these words shall pass our deaths. Death’s gates will crack.
Lucky I draw my breath from everywhere.
The wind calls and I love it. Meet me there.