Tracks by Ryan Dickinson
Tracks
To watch monarchs flutter
Long signs of songlines through grass and ferns at Gum feet
A path set for a royal stride, too precise for I to follow
Maybe the dragonfly can see me lost unto the new sacred,
Undone into becoming scanning the small world horizon for a sign outside solonic
incarceration
An empty cocoon, am I too soon or just shy of on time?
Seeking from behind the twigs and fallen bark of subtle cue
I ask too much,
Quartz skeletal remains tell me place has already been plundered, strength though it has in
post-abuse
Could an ant perhaps, with all these tracks, guide me to the change?
“There is never any going back” that’s what they chant in 4/4
And despite my lack of knapsack shoulder riding, I must be echo fool a resounding dream of
one unit asking all the dormant ghosts for wholeness
Grass cast shadow where canopy doesn’t
Rolling treacle hardens on the tree into mirrors
I could see more than me, if I would let go
Yet free-hand becomes window gazing without perpetual commotion
And free mind is no mind, the wrestling ebbs to a slow beat same as singing bowls skipping
through sand
Must I own Shangrila to find it?
Barking promises at the back of tomorrow’s head
Lose my footing and tumble sideways into oncoming balance,
Hanged riverside down and douse the lands surrounding
And pull a spring in 30 or more places,
Each shallow rooted in the cycles of principled permanence,
Made of light,
Made of heart and laughter
And not an ill intention among them
Made for a more beautiful way
I drown in their potential,
These lands flood and picking through the rising bodies of ancestors,
Forget the desert I broke from was chained to and choked instead to speak of
Comments