Omnipresence is an Evolutionary Talent
The anhinga at the shore of the man-made lake
opens its wings and just stands there
like an idea being considered.
I’m in the mirror. The thought moves from one fingertip to another.
The anhinga lands here, inside the house, on my shoulders.
The duck with the red face is waiting on the lawn.
I keep thinking about what to evolve into next.
Even to become a word has already been done.
Wings flap at my ears. Will feathers do?
The anhinga is basking in the future.
I will have to find a way to be everywhere
or to survive in the corner of somewhere.
I will need a different skin for the next phase.
Call it my niche. Make it a lake.
I will build a new kind of house out of my body.
End of the Anthropocene
So I’m the window in the writing studio
Back against the door
The entire animal of myself
Looks out at the earth
My temperature adjusts itself
Between cold and warm
It’s a relief to look
At the earth from within the beast
I don’t owe it anything
I’m surviving, I’m branching
The leaves are t-t-t-t-tapping
It’s a real song programmed in the genetic code
The snow is full of fists
It’s supposed to hold everything then let it go
The snow’s wrinkled hand
Opens in the sun and it’s my hand
I forget the studio
The words on the desk
I claim cloudship
There is wind and it spits
And hisses and sits in you
The earth is letting everything happen to it
The self has moved to the back of the room
There is a way to be an animal on earth
That must be learned
I climb out the window frame
Drop my knees to the snow
I’m crawling and sniffing
Flicking snowflakes from my hair